


Red Tape

by Lovelymayor



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Interconnected Stories, POV Multiple, Suspense, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-07-26 17:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7584187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovelymayor/pseuds/Lovelymayor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's election season. A hot tip leads Officers Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps into the Tundratown chill, while something sinister surrounds the mayoral campaign of Aurelia Canidae, Zootopia City Councilwoman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tip of the Iceberg

“Hopps. Judy? We’ve got an assignment, are you nodding off? Is a stakeout too much for you?” Nick’s tone was taunting. He shifted and eased into the seat of the car a bit more, the darkness obscuring his plainclothes attire.

Judy snapped her chin up quickly, “I wasn’t sleeping!” She blurted, causing Nick to put his paw against her mouth.

“Shh!”

“O-oh, right… Nick, do we even know they’re in there?”

“Tip’s good, Carrots. I’d like to think these guys know their own business.”

The car’s heater was on and Judy was bundled up, but she still felt cold. She leaned forward, peering through the glass at the view of the street from the alleyway. It was covered in snow and more was slowly falling from the pitch-black sky. Every so often a skidoo would zip by, headlights flashing a lantern glance over the two officers.

“What do you think, Nick? A wolves-only gentleman’s club calls in a tip about some of their members having ‘extreme views’ and even the possibility of an attack? You don’t suppose they’d prefer to keep something like that quiet?”

Nick shrugged. As he listened, his eyes fixed on a side door in an alley across the street. His night vision gave him a keen insight into what the darkness hid. So far: no activity.

“It’s a good policy. Imagine if Lionheart knew about Bellwether’s plot and turned her in? We’d have heralded him as a hero instead of tossing him in jail. I bet these cigar-puffing bozos are just upset that some members are harshing their gin-soaked mellow.”

Judy blew a puff of air into her paws and rubbed them together, then she put them on the steering wheel to feel the vents on either side gushing hot air. It felt good, and she couldn’t help but remember winters in Bunnyburrow. What she wouldn’t give to be snuggled up with Nick beside a fireplace right about now.

“Time to review the file again.” Judy said, leaning over to tap at the standard-issue laptop sitting between her and Nick. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Nick peeking over, eager to have something to do other than watching an empty alley.

“Order of the Bared Fang. Two-hundred-year-old boys club where wolves get together to bay about, I don’t know, howling, having teeth, and scratching themselves. Late last night a wolf in a suit comes into the ZPD with a tip for our tippo.”

“How is Eartha, anyway?”

Judy shook her head, jolted out of case-review mode. “She’s still hoping for a bigger office. I had lunch with her the other day. Never thought it’d be so hard to be a hippo in this city, the way she complained about answering the hotline all day in that closet.”

“Ha! That bad Eartha.”

“Anyway. Wolf’s name is Chaucer Howelton. He says he’s a member of this order, and that he was in one of their clubs the other day when he overheard two wolves talking about ‘primacy of the spirit’ and ‘making the sheep pay.’ Names of these two are Laurence Packsley and Victor Wolfdorf.”

“Geez. Nick Wilde isn’t sounding so bad.”

Judy hid a mild smirk from her partner. "Back on topic: we’re watching their movements now because…?”

“Because Howelton said he’s heard radical talk before and he doesn’t like where it leads.”

“If you see something, bray something.”

“Bray.”

“Right, so-“

“Bray, Judy, bray!” Nick interjected, shaking Judy’s shoulder. She looked up to see two wolves bolting out of the alley across the street, dragging someone between them. “That’s a sheep, Judy.”

Judy felt her heart race. She struggled between the urge to jump out of the car and put a stop to it then and there, and the urge to follow them. Waiting could endanger a life.

There was no time to decide. Before she could react, the wolves had dragged the sheep into a skidoo that had been sitting on the street for hours. It revved up and hastily zipped through the snow away from Nick and Judy’s line of sight.

“Wait for it Judy. Wait for it. We might as well tail them quietly now that they’re already driving.” Nick spoke in a smooth, soft manner, and it calmed Judy’s nerves immensely. If he wasn’t her partner, she wasn’t sure she’d be half as good a cop as she was. Perhaps it was the age difference between them; even though he hadn’t been a cop as long as she had, he had a certain worldliness to him.

Judy counted five seconds in her head, then turned on the car. In a whoosh, their undercover cruiser slipped out of the alleyway and onto the icy Tundratown road. Two blocks ahead she spotted the suspects’ vehicle skirting down the barren streets. If this was going to escalate into a car chase, 1 A.M. couldn’t have been a more perfect time.

“Nick, you don’t think… I mean, wolves and sheep? They don’t always see eye to eye.”

Nick was frantically tapping away at the laptop, holding it steady with one paw as he did so.

“Hopefully they’re just taking him out for a little chat, maybe teach him how to howl… Judy, file says this Order of the Bared Fang has held a bunch of ‘mutual respect and understanding’ picnics with prey species… Huh. Maybe those two tailwaggers aren’t buying into the whole ‘let’s play nice and get along’ thing.”

As Judy drove, streetlamps passed overhead, the light broken by a dusting of snow that had slowly increased in density. The red glow of the suspects' tail lights reflected on the white-coated streets as the vehicle in question headed out of the more populated downtown area and toward the mountains ringing the southeast border of Tundratown. It was traveling slowly, but Judy was sure the sheep inside must have been struggling. These wolves had teeth, and claws, and they didn’t need weapons to be a danger to others.

Judy stuck to the plan and tailed the vehicle at a good distance. To her side, Nick had finished reviewing the files and stared keenly ahead, his night vision invaluable on the darkened highways. Both of them were on edge, shoulders tense and ready to leap out into action at any moment.

After a half-hour of tailing them with the headlights off, the suspects' skidoo slid off the road into a patch of trees, easing between them and disappearing from view. The snow had ceased to fall, and visibility was improving. Judy hung back and crept their vehicle along to the edge of the line of trees.

“This is our stop, Nick. They can’t move quickly in these trees. Let’s go.” Judy directed in a hush tone.

Nick nodded silently as they both palmed their side arms – powerful Taser CN2s with add-on lithium cartridges for subduing larger mammals.

The air outside, while still, was frigid and painful to breathe. Judy hunched over and hugged herself, thankful for the dense civilian clothes she was wearing. The sweater and thick tights kept her body heat up as she held herself down to the snowbanks and crept forward. To her flank, Nick skulked along without needing a word of direction. Apart but together in mind, their noses twitched in cautious anticipation. Nick’s tail dropped and dragged in the snow. Judy kept her ears lowered.

Sounds of an altercation erupted from ahead, somewhere amidst the stifling rows of tower-tall pines.

There they were, tucked away in a small clearing with the skidoo providing a visual barrier between them and the encroaching cops: two timber wolves in thick jackets and pants, and a sheared sheep wearing a torn grey jumpsuit.

They traded blows, fierce claws swiping out only to be ducked under. The sheep bobbed and weaved beneath their attacks, striking them with his hard hooves and dealing dizzying hits.

“ZPD! Hooves up!” Judy shouted as she took the safety off her Taser and raised it to eye level.

As Nick and Judy rushed to intervene, the captive finished off his captors, beating them unconscious with swift strikes to the forehead and throat. The two wolves collapsed into heaps of fur in the white snow, and the sheep, huffing and puffing, threw up his hooves.

“Thank goodness you came!” He gasped, puffs of white breath escaping his mouth as he stood in the freezing cold. A sheared sheep didn’t have much to protect him from the elements.

Nick and Judy lowered their side arms, adrenaline still pulsing in their veins.

“Th-that was incredible!” Judy exclaimed, “Your kitnappers! They… You took them out!” Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before she turned her head to the wolves.

Nick chuckled, gesturing as if he was dusting off his paws. “Didn’t see that coming, I have to say. Hey, buddy, come on, we’ve got the heat on and we’ll get you home once we collar these guys and ask some questions.” He reached out to the sheep with an open paw.

The wind picked up.

Nodding, the sheep stepped forward. “Thank you so much, I-I-I don’t know what happened, they had me in the car and when they dragged me out I knew I had to d-defend myself.” He was stammering, shivering as he approached Nick.

Judy holstered her weapon and crouched over the wolves, pulling two pairs of handcuffs out from a hook under her sweater. The metallic snap of the rings closing around their wrists was satisfyingly crisp. Something behind her made her ears perk.

It was too quick. The sheep pressed his body against Nick’s smaller form and drew the Taser back out of its holster. His arm wrapped around the fox’s, then he jerked upward, popping Nick’s shoulder out. One second later, a hoof struck Nick in his chest, sharply kicking him onto his back.

Judy didn’t make a sound, her own motions fluid and practiced as she reached for her sidearm. But she couldn’t beat a drawn gun in a shootout. There was a crackle, then a flash and a burst of white, searing current behind her eyes. Her body convulsed and tensed and she dropped to her knees, then her stomach, a tortured groan escaping her.

The snow resumed falling.

Nick was in pain, but dragged himself to his feet. The sheep was already inside the car he had been driven in. As the engine started, Nick ducked toward Judy, ripping the probes out of her leg – one of the only spots where her clothing was thin enough to pierce – and scooped her up in his good arm. He darted back through the trees to the undercover vehicle while the high beam headlights chased him, only meters away. The roar of its engine rumbled like an apex predator. He stumbled and fell against the door of the undercover police vehicle as the sheep drove by, narrowly avoiding a collision.

Was the sheep trying to crush them? Nick's mind raced as he opened the door and dragged Judy inside, only moments to spare.

“Judy… Judy stay with me…” He reassured, placing his paw against her shin as he reached for the radio installed under the dashboard.

“Dispatch this is Officer Wilde! We have a 10-00; Officer Hopps is down at my location. I repeat 10-00 officer down!” He barked, his voice nearly breaking. As dispatch responded affirmatively, he whispered down to Judy, “Help’s on the way Judy, just breathe, keep breathing.”

“Nick, his voice.” Judy managed the words only barely.

“Judy, shh, save it for the hospital bed, huh? Just stay still.” Nick winced, trying to re-set his shoulder. The physical pain melded with the emotional, and he fought back bitter tears.

“That was Doug…” Judy whispered, “Doug Ramses.”


	2. All Bite and No Badge

Andrea stared at the report for the thousandth time. The report that said she killed a suspect. She was sitting in a chair across from the chief, and he wasn’t making eye contact. The old dappled horse looked as if he bore a great weight on his shoulders. Andrea knew she had put it there. While she waited for him to speak, her eyes drifted to the calendar on the wall. April 15th, 2006, it read. Her last day on the force.

“This is it, Andrea. This is the day that I take your badge, and you know that. Do you have anything to say that I haven’t already heard?” Horson asked. He was looking at the badge pinned to Andrea’s chest, knowing that it would soon be on his desk.

“No, sir, Chief Weller.” Andrea’s response was curt. To the point, like she always was. She could feel his eyes move up and trace over the long scars of bare flesh down the right side of her face. A pang of shame and disgust grew in her stomach as she saw pity in his expression.

“Then listen. I’m… I’m only doing this because I have to. A lieutenant has never been discharged from this department. But what you did, Andy, it was too much. Too much for the civilians, too much for the news… Too much for you, too, I think, if your psych evaluation is any indication.”

Andrea rolled her neck and sighed. “Both the psychiatrist and internal affairs didn’t find anything. It wasn’t excessive force; it was uncivilized force. You’re taking my badge because of how I did what I did, not why.”

Horson knit his brow. “The mammal who killed your partner was still a mammal. He deserved due process.”

“I don’t need to tell you again that he had already shot me once, Chief Weller.” Andrea’s tone stayed level. Horson’s did not.

“I don’t care if he shot you ten times, Andrea! We protect and serve. We do not use our teeth to butcher suspects under any circumstances. There is procedure! There are already mammals who think predators shouldn’t be police officers. When they heard a spotted hyena ripped a zebra to shreds, that gave them ammunition that could affect the way this entire department works!”

Andrea stared straight forward. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. And it won’t change anything, either.” Guilt never came into the equation. At the time, it was necessary. Grisly, and horrible, and motivated by revenge and the deepest dark of her animality, but necessary.

Horson snorted and closed the file on the desk. He tapped the desk with a hoof. He couldn’t look at her; instead, he hung his head.

“Your badge, Officer Sarchus.”

Andrea reached her paw up to take her badge off one last time. She set it on the desk, then stood to leave. When she reached the door, she heard Chief Weller’s voice. It was lower, softer:

“Say hello to John and your boys for me. Tell them I’m sorry.”

“They have a game tomorrow. It’s too bad you won’t be there.” Andrea replied, “Goodbye, Chief Weller.” She passed through the door and into the precinct’s halls.

Outside the chief's office, precinct one was operating normally. Mammals in uniform passed in front of her, the rookies staring because they didn’t know any better. Andrea was in uniform, but her chest bore no badge. She made her way to the locker rooms, where for the final time she changed into her civilian garb. A dull ache throbbed in her right shoulder as she slipped her arms into a black tank top, a memory of the bullet that had hit her just a few months ago. The shirt and jeans felt strange on her fur, not like her uniform.

When she closed the locker door, the mirror hanging on it stared back at her. She took stock of the marks on her face and her powerfully built body. Scar after scar. This wasn't the body of a civilian, and she'd stick out like a sore dewclaw. Twenty-five years of living as a cop, with all the wounds and mental stress to prove it. One thought repeated in her mind.

‘How am I going to provide now?’

One voice took her by surprise as she stepped out of the locker room, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. That of her friend, her colleague – Mansa.

“We’re not going to be the same without you, Andrea.” He said, his deep voice catching her ears as it had so many times before at departmental meetings and during shift changes.

“Lieutenant, I’m not going to be the same either.” Andrea replied, her eyes swinging up to meet the cape buffalo’s.

He put his hoof on her shoulder. “Some of the others are saying you’re lucky. That a discharge is the ‘easy way out.’”

Andrea frowned, the first sign of frustration she had allowed herself to show. “Bogo, there is no easy way out of this job... Let’s grab a drink sometime.”

“Right. To your future employment in the private sector. Bring John along.”

Andrea sighed. “I’ll do that.” Her future employment was exactly what she was worried about. Few jobs were more thankless than private security, where you chased packs of adolescents for throwing soda off the escalator at the mall. She'd rather puppysit civic events and predator-prey understanding picnics.

A few palpable moments of apprehension passed between the two officers. For a moment, their eyes met, and Bogo shook his head dolefully.

Andrea and Mansa turned their separate ways. With her paw on the doors to the station, she turned and looked at the lobby, stark and emblematic of the oath she had once taken. It had been her home away from home for decades. Leaving it was harder than she ever expected it would be. The buzz of incoming calls, arrests, and uniformed banter fell quiet as the doors closed behind her for the last time.

The walk home was full of confusion. Regret. She had teeth, and she had used them. She replayed the scene in her head over and over: She was disarmed, shot with her own weapon by a cop killer. The only tool at her disposal were her teeth, and she had used them to frightening effect. Not only was it against policy, but it was against society’s very nature. Bitter wondering flooded into her mind. If she were a prey, and she had used horns or hooves to fight back, would she still have lost her badge?

 

* * *

 

“Honey, I’m home.” Andrea called as she entered the modest house on Acacia Street. She leaned down to let her bag fall off her shoulder. As soon as she did, the lights of her life came running out of the living room to hug her. Two ten-year old boys, sweet as sugar. They threw their arms around her neck.

“Hyenry! Dylan!” Andrea cooed, wrapping her arms around her little hyenas.

“Dad said you’re getting a new job?” Hyenry said, pulling away and looking into his mother’s umber eyes.

“Does that mean you aren’t gonna get bad guys anymore?” Dylan added, nestling into her chest.

Andrea thought about that. She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure what she would be doing, but it was good of her husband to tell such an innocent lie.

“Mom’s always going to be stopping bad guys, sweetie. Now boys, go wash up; it smells like your father’s almost done with dinner.”

At this, the two boys freed her and rushed to the bathroom, racing each other to wash their paws.

Andrea stood and glanced at the table where the family always put the mail. There was a stack of letters, bills. Just next to them sat a photograph in a frame. It was an old photograph, and it had sat in that spot for as long as she had lived in this house. So why couldn't she bring herself to look at it?

With a sigh, she moved down the hall and into the kitchen to find her husband John, clad in an apron and stirring a large pot. The scent of spice filled the kitchen. Just over his shoulder, she could see the drawings her children had done of her wearing blue and with a big golden badge on her chest.

“Whatever that is, it’s going to be delicious.” Andrea said fondly, kissing the spots on her husband’s cheek.

“You know it Andy.” John replied, closing the eye on the side where she kissed him. “Are you going to be okay, hon? I know this is going to be hard. We’re going to have to live off savings for a bit. But you are always going to be my hero.”

Andrea stood behind John as he cooked, her paws on his shoulders. She was a head taller than him, and she rested her snout between his ears.

“We’ll make it work, John.”


	3. Grin and Bear It

"Alright listen big ears, we're going to have to do something about all these flaws of yours. You may have gotten away with getting into a good school, and you may have gotten a good job with BlackClaw, and you may have gotten on city council, but so help me if you think you can run for mayor without all this shit blowing up in your face, you’re stupider than a bunny trying to fuck a polar bear.”

Urswald, a brown bear himself, smirked at his own analogy. He was sitting diagonally from Canidae and puffed on a cigar while she held her paws in her lap. She was frowning, impatient. He was almost twice her size. She was short for a wolf, and that didn’t do her any favors when it came to larger mammals.

Canidae was soft around the middle, but never without painted lips or dark mascara. She was a particular style: elegant, but too haute for other mammals to empathize with her fashion choices. Her roseate eyes burned like little flames in the grey-black charcoal of her fur. Elaborately piled hair covered up some secret insecurity.

Secret to all save for, perhaps, Urswald, who had to know everything about her in order to do his job properly.

He continued: "Every one of your accomplishments can be traced back to the fact that your father was a pillar of society. The ZPD use his designs on their Tasers, their tranqs, and their… heavier artillery. The company itself might not matter. I mean, the average mammal doesn’t know anything about Lockheed Marten, so they’re probably not going to care about Canidae Systems' actual dealings, but the fact that a company shares your last name? You need to distance yourself from it and fast.”

“Fine. I’ll tell them the truth. I’m little more than majority shareholder. My involvement in the company is in name only and I’ve not set paw on its premises. What else are you saying I need to change?” Canidae demanded, her tone harsh.

“First thing’s first. You need to disavow any connection to The Order. You need to drop those old wolves – don’t you hate them anyway, Aurelia?”

“All of them to a tail. Well, almost all of them…”

“And all that shit they bark about improving the lot of wolves in society? Everyone knows they’re just a front for species superiority. You’re going to have to work hard to show mammals that you aren’t just out for wolves. Fuck, girl, you’re going to have to show _preds_ that you’re not just out for wolves, let alone prey. What the hell were you thinking?”

Canidae sighed. “I had no choice in the matter. Membership is hereditary. My father was their favorite.”

“And you hated him, right? So what the hell? Tell those fez-wearing bastards you’ve got better things to do.”

“Urswald, I’ll tell them that I intend to concentrate on my campaign and that I will not forget wolves in my policy decisions.”

“Mm. Tactful. They might actually believe it. But any relation to them is going to alienate the sheep vote.”

"Don't talk to me about sheep... Next point? How long is this going to take? I have a meeting about security during my next speech.” She was eager to finish any meeting with her furry chimney of a campaign manager.

“Sit tight. Now. BlackClaw. Voters are going to hear that and shit themselves. The company's reputation is mixed at best.”

Canidae glared up at him, gripping the couch cushion. The Tundratown chill crept into the room as they spoke, only the fire keeping it at bay.

“Mixed?” She asked. “Mister Bjornsson I’ll have you know their board of directors gave me an award for my management abilities. I can’t speak to the performance record of any individual employees – any company has mammals who are skilled and who turn out to be not so skilled. Think about how well their stocks had been doing since I started working there! And how well they’ve been doing since I left.”

Urswald nodded as she spoke, judging her every word. “Good, good. Drop the bit about stocks. I’ll agree you aren’t liable to individual performance during your time; it’s not like you were handing out kill orders or anything. Just… Tread lightly on that one. 'Private military' is just about the dirtiest word in politics.”

“Hmph. We might not even be having this conversation if it weren’t for their services abroad.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t say that either. If you’re going to honor anyone, you honor actual vets, not contractors.” He blew a smoke ring right into her face. She angrily swatted at it.

“Keep talking, Urswald. And quit billowing smoke like a damn fire.” Urswald chuckled at that. He leaned forward, happy to use his height as leverage. She needed him, after all. "I'm the best political strategist in the city, and you hired hme like a spoiled princess, acting as if I can magically win you the election. Well guess what, I can. So this is my discussion."

His lips curled into a broad smile as he saw her grow perturbed.

“Sorry, sweetie, this is what you’re paying for. Now, about the hair…”

Canidae winced, her paws going up to touch the pink-dyed strands. “I’m not changing it. I’ve had it this way for years. It's 2016. Society is changing. Things like this are becoming acceptable.”

This caused Urswald to chortle loudly, slapping his knee. “Are you kidding? Maybe for young people but you have to remember you’re courting older voters too. You're not a kid anymore. You better talk a good goddamn game to make up for hair like that.”

Canidae scoffed. “I talk a very ‘good game.’ I’ve managed to continue this conversation without letting on that I want to rip your throat out sometimes.” She met his eyes as he spoke, her tone flat.

Urswald shook his head. “Whatever you say… You’re lucky Swinton’s got that blonde mop of hers.”

"Fine. I'll let it return to my natural black."

The corner of Canidae’s mouth turned down. She thought about Swinton, her political rival. The pig conducted herself very well, despite occasional prurient mishaps. Her political stances were loud and clear. Working in city hall alongside her as a councilwoman during Swinton's first term as mayor had acquainted Canidae to her personality and her weaknesses… but it also afforded Swinton the same opportunities. She had to admit she had respect for her.

“Your weight.” Urswald’s voice interrupted her fond reflection on her colleague and opponent. “…You’re fat, girl. From your tits to your bounce house ass. It’s pretty common, sure, but the media is probably going to bring it up. Are you ready for that?” His eyebrows were raised, feigning concern when all he wanted was to get a rise out of her.

“I… S-Swinton’s the same way.” Canidae retorted, nervously. Why would anyone care about her weight? This was politics. No one ever brought it up when she was running for city council or working in the private sector.

“You’re in for a rude awakening, sugar… But you’re right. You’re lucky Swinton’s a broad bitch too.”

At this point, Canidae stood. She held one paw on the couch and walked around it, standing by the edge and facing the fireplace in contemplation. It was going to be that way, wasn’t it? Mammals were going to know everything. They were going to know where she received her master’s, the other mammals in her dorm room, her time at BlackClaw, her involvement in her father’s company… They were going to find out that she liked women. That she had dated one. That she had fallen for prey and would again.

They were going to find out about her mother, no matter how hard her father had tried to cover it up.

“Urswald. I’m not going to act straight for this office. The mammals of Zootopia are going to elect a gay woman or they’re going to elect a woman who can barely keep her top on in public. I want to make strides. I don’t care if it’s hard.” She had decided this long ago, but it was time her campaign manager knew it was unequivocal.

The bear leaned on the arm of the chair in which he sat, the hint of a smirk on his muzzle.

“Yeah? You gonna make strides for half-breeds too?” He said, coolly.

Canidae felt her veins turn to ice. She turned to face him now, struggling to keep her composure. “How dare you use that word. I… If it’s necessary, perhaps I will. I didn’t trust you with that information so that you could speak to me like a… Like an obstinate old genusist.”

Urswald’s smile grew. “Aurie honey, I am an old genusist. I just like your money more than I care about the sloppy unprotected sex between your industrialist fuck of a father and the sweet piece of ass that was your mother. By the way, you worked up the guts to watch those two movies she was in before you were born? You know she takes her top off in 'Sun and Moonlight?' Amazing tits. Too bad that, what, one in ten thousand chance of having a hybrid actually happened. Sort of thing does a real number during birth. You really did kill her, in a way.”

Canidae stopped breathing. She froze. How could any mammal be so cruel as to judge her for that? There was a long, frustrating moment of weakness where she fought tears. She hadn’t heard vitriol like that in years, and it took her to a dark place. Her paws balled into fists. Her ears had fallen and her tail tucked down. Finally, she breathed ragged the tobacco-poisoned air of the room, and spoke.

“Mister Bjornsson. Do not mistake my species as a target. It is a strength. I have endured the disapproval of mammals like you, and I will continue to do so for the sake of this city. Zootopia is my home, and it doesn’t matter whether I am half elephant or half muskrat, I am Zootopia. I represent the promise of this city’s foundation – that all mammals should be equal and in harmony. If you so much as lift your nose to the idea of a hybrid in public office, then your ignorance and intolerance will be roundly refuted when I usher this city out of the cesspool Lionheart and Bellwether got it into. Swinton hasn't done nearly enough. I am going to repair this city’s problems if I have to shake paws and hooves with every species who calls it home and personally see to their needs, and I’m going to do it whether or not a vocal minority thinks I shouldn’t exist. And if I fail, and I’m not elected, then… Then I’ll find another way.”

She was shaking. Did she really believe every word she said?

Urswald had kept the same expression the entire time she spoke against his cruel criticism and taunting. He examined her talking points. He thought of possible arguments, but kept them to himself – that could be done later. Instead of throwing down his cigar and storming out of the room, he placed it into his mouth to free his paws to applaud her.

“Good girl! You see? That’s the kind of big girl talk the voters are going to want to hear if you want to stand a chance against Swinton. That’s the one edge I think you have. Swinton’s prey; preds might not trust her enough to vote for her. And prey? Even prey are going to be looking at prey candidates in a new light after Bellwether started having mammals go biting mad in the streets. You’ve got to work your experience, and the second they start giving you guff because you're a mongrel who likes to eat fish – see what I did there? – you have to show them that makes you more trustworthy. More transparent, not less. Nothing you have to hide could be worse than what I've just mentioned."

"I understand..."

"Heh, who knows what Swinton eats. She’s a pig, get me? Eh, I’d wager she likes cock though.”

Canidae couldn’t help but chuckle under her breath. It felt like that first bit of laughter was going to turn into tears, but she stayed calm. She should have known better than to believe he was wholly against her. In the back of her mind, she irritably wondered how much of his disgusting genusism was invented to test her and how much of it was real.

“Urswald,” she said, and he inclined his head toward her, “If the voters are half as loathsome and prejudiced as you, then it’s going to be a pyrrhic victory for Swinton. She’ll have won because the most base, abominable ideas about interspecies relations and coexistence have bubbled like bile to the surface of Zootopia… And that’s not a city I want to be mayor of, anyway.”

As she spoke, Urswald stamped out his cigar and stood up, looking toward the door. "Whatever you say, girl. I'm going home."


	4. Predator? I Hardly Know Her

White coats never sat well with Nick. This made every visit to the hospital more disconcerting than it ought to be. He was sitting in a chair next to Judy’s bed, continually reassuring himself that the beeping machines were purely a formality, a necessity that didn’t necessarily mean Judy was in any real danger.

Doctor Gnuyen perused Judy’s chart, head tilted slightly. She was tall, her long snout and curved horns adding to her studious and experienced appearance. Shaggy brown fur peeked from the sleeves of her coat and the neckline of the medical scrubs underneath.

Nick supposed he was glad she was in the room – she was there to help.

“It looks like… no lasting damage. You’re just going to need a bit more rest, Judy, but I’ll be happy to release you tomorrow. Now, Nick, are you sure you don’t want an x-ray? You were complaining about that arm.” Doctor Gnuyen said, looking up from the chart.

Nick tensed his shoulder. The pain from where it had been dislocated was still there, but he had maintained full range of motion. It was just the dull ache, pulsing there like the frequently returning memories of the previous night: a sheared sheep, a fight, and the blinding pain of his inflicted wounds in the moment they happened.

“I’m fine, doctor.” Nick assured, leaning over Judy. “Hey, Carrots, you’re feeling better? Sounds like the doc thinks you’re alright.”

Judy wasn’t wholly devoid of energy, but the painkillers had dampened her natural pep. The hospital gown and the covers of the sheets she rested under made her look worse off than she had just been told she was. She raised her paw and gently placed it on Nick’s shoulder. She knew he too had been hurt.

“Wouldn’t want you to have to work a shift without me, partner.” Judy said softly, and Nick grinned.

“Good. And knowing you, being cooped up in here too long would drive you crazy.” He replied, and stood up. “Well, doctor, thank you. Judy, I’ll see you tomorrow, huh?”

As Gnuyen left the room, Nick took a step toward the bed and picked up the television remote at Judy's feet. He set it on her stomach where she could reach it.

“Just think of it as a little break, okay Judy? Watch a little TV, eat a little… gourmet hospital cuisine. It’s a win-win, right?” The devilish smile he wore was mitigated by the softness of his eyes.

“Nick, don’t make me laugh!” Judy answered, half-chuckling as she patting him on the wrist. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

With a nod, Nick gazed at Judy for another moment before leading himself out of the room. In the hospital halls, the abundance of activity didn’t serve to calm him. He was eager to leave, and made his way toward the exit. Nurses power-walked by him, in one case carrying a rodent patient in a stretcher that would fit in the palm of his hand.

Once he left the building, his next destination was his patrol car. The satisfying sound of the engine turning on reminded him of sitting in that freezing skidoo the previous night, waiting for something to happen. He wished nothing had.

Nick drove to precinct one on autopilot as his mind reconstructed the recent events over and over. Two wolves, and a sheared sheep. The sheep won the fight, then acted like a victim just to get the drop on him and Judy. What horrified him most was how he wasn’t able to identify the sheep even though he had seen him before. Doug Ramses. The sheep who was close to the center of the Night Howler Incident. The sheep who had gotten away. He was a wanted mammal, and the department had ordered a mammalhunt the very same day Bellwether had been caught.

But Doug Ramses had never been caught.

Some commotion was going on outside precinct one as Nick parked the car in the officers’ lot. The Savanna Central plaza in front of city hall was playing host to a speech from one of the mayoral candidates. An enormous crowd was gathered, waving hand-made or distributed signs of support. The slogan ‘Canidae Cares’ was frequent, and the lavender and orange color of the signs provided a bright, quintessentially Zootopian liveliness to the campaign.

Nick was off work, and he couldn’t fight the curiosity. Between Swinton and Canidae, he couldn't be bothered to decide how they were even different. Judy was for Swinton all the way, and the election was the talk of the department when officers weren't discussing cases. It was on everyone’s minds, except, perhaps, for Nick's. Nick was positive that if Judy was flipping channels back in her hospital bed, she was probably coming across network after network running coverage of the event he was staring at.

She was.

Judy was trying to relax as she watched coverage of the speech. She may have been pro-Swinton, but that didn’t mean she was anti-Canidae.

“Councilwoman Canidae’s address today is suspected to solidify her position on predator-prey relations and reference the anti-discrimination bill that has been her baby since the beginning of her second term in city hall.” The distinguished voice of Peter Moosebridge spoke as the ZNN cameras panned over the crowd, then the stage.

While the crowd was diverse, a keen eye could pick out a substantial number of predators compared to prey. Quietly, predators and prey had picked their sides. On the stage, a podium stood waiting for a speaker, while a large video screen showed a vastly enlarged view of where the councilwoman would be standing when she arrived.

Nick saw this all from the ground. He stood on the fringes of the crowd, unwilling to push through the gatherings of wolves, coyotes and other canids. _Pack mentality,_  he thought. The groups of bears and big cats looked as tall to Nick as some of the skyscrapers surrounding the plaza. Far ahead, he could make out a figure emerging to varied cheers and fanfare.

Councilwoman Canidae appeared from stage left. From where she exited the curtains, a keen eye could make out the figures of a bear and a hyena, but all attention turned to the woman taking the stage. Her gait was confident, her muzzle held high. She wore an azure blazer over a modest, carnation pink skirt, looking professional while accentuating her femininity. As the formalities continued, she shook paws with some of her campaign staff on stage and turned to the podium. Once she ascended several steps, she was ready to speak. Her paws gently held the side of the stand, and the crowd quieted.

“Zootopia is a city unlike any other. It is a bastion of society’s best qualities, a beacon that shows all animalkind that harmony is not only possible, but beneficial. Ideal. We are an example to the world, but we must strive to improve ourselves like any other city. In recent years, we have seen our city go through many ups and downs, and we have seen it at its lowest. I’m here today to tell you that I will do all I can to keep Zootopia on the right track. To affirm our beliefs in equality and prosperity for all species.” Canidae’s delivery was straightforward; she didn’t seem to be reading directly from a speech, yet there was no hesitation in what she said.

Nick had heard speeches like this before. She wasn’t really saying anything that he could imagine bearing fruit. Sure, she was paying lip service to the same things other politicians were, but there was nothing new in what she was saying. He turned to leave, casually striding further away from the throngs of mammals – he had better things to do than listen to a so-called revolutionary speech that failed to deliver any concrete promises or plans. If anything interesting happened, he was sure he'd hear about it later.

For several minutes, Canidae continued, “Predators are mammals too. We deserve to vote with our voices. We deserve to work the jobs we want, learn what we want… I hope that you will give my anti-discrimination bill a chance. Let me show you that more predators can be doctors, and teachers, and that even small prey deserve a second look in the job market. No more will mammals be turned away on the basis of species alone.”

She seemed to be nearing the end, winding down describing her famed prejudice-purging bill.

It was then that a voice screamed. “Pred scum! Howler! Go back to your den! Zootopia is for prey!”

And another. “I don’t want preds teaching my kids! Keep preds away from our kids!”

Canidae did her best to ignore the comments. To place her message and her campaign above them. If she showed that her skin was thin, she'd see it scratched in the future. As she continued speaking, she could see the crowd murmuring and shifting. Her eyes drifted back and forth over the crowd. Was she losing them? No, of course not. Her tone never wavered. Up on stage she couldn't notice what the mammals in the crowd were seeing.

Pockets of fighting were brewing. Prey and predator were exchanging harsh words, shouting and losing their tempers. Mob mentality turned into pack mentality as groups of mammals stuck together and spurned those around them. When the pushing and shoving started, claws and hooves were drawn in. Friends stepped in to help friends. Politics flew out the window, ushering in a cruel crystallization of the 'us versus them' concept.

At this, Canidae took notice, and spoke out. Her tone was noticeably softer.

"Alright alright, that's quite enough of that! Yes I see you, let's continue." As she addressed the crowd, urging them to move on, she felt a sizzle of unease creeping up her back.

The security staff moved in closer to Canidae's position on stage, preparing for any eventuality. Two rhinos and a tiger, assisting a broad shouldered hyena as their lead. While the fighting continued to spread unchecked, the hyena drew near to Canidae and placed her paw on her shoulder.

"Miss," she said, gravely, "start wrapping things up."

The sizzle in Canidae's spine grew into a conflagration. She couldn't stop. She couldn't slink away like a coward - the media would destroy her. She could feel the presence of her bodyguards around her. Further out, on the fringes of the crowd, she could see the riot police beginning to gather.

"Mammals,  _please_ calm yourselves, there's no need for any of this! Security, get them separated!" Her voice was breaking, its resolute, measured inflection giving way to desperate pleading.

Cries and shouts rang out as stampedes began, with mammals rushing to safety to avoid being caught up in the mess. Canidae's words fell on deaf ears.

Still stuck in her hospital bed, Judy was watching, unable to process what she was seeing. Riot police, disorder; utter bedlam. She could hear loudspeakers ordering the crowd to disperse. Any minute now, tear gas grenades would be fired into the crowd. Right before her eyes, it appeared as if all the work Judy had done to keep Zootopia accepting of predators and prey alike was being violently dismantled.

On stage, Canidae was aghast. As she continued to try and calm the crowd, a bottle soared toward the podium and shattered against the corner. The blow disoriented her, and she tumbled backward. Had she been hit? Even she was unsure. She winced and anticipated a painful fall, but felt the powerful arms of her bodyguard catch her instead. Canidae felt herself being carried out of harm’s way.

“Andrea, this wasn’t supposed to happen…” Canidae whined, holding her face with one paw as she peered through her fingers and into the crowd. She heard Andrea grunt and continue to carry her away. A sleek black private car was waiting behind the stage, and several aides held the passenger door open while Canidae was carried in.

The quiet hum of the car's interior drowned out most of the noises from outside. “What happened back there?!” Canidae looked angrily at her staff, wanting to blame anyone but herself. She was sitting across from Urswald and an aide, while Andrea sat next to her, muttering into her headset.

“Th-that’s what happens when you don’t screen your crowds, miss.” The aide, a lynx, explained. Beside him, Urswald made a condescending face in Canidae’s direction as she gritted her teeth in frustration.

“Screen my crowds? This is Zootopia! Do you think Swinton screens her crowds?” Canidae demanded, half-barking.

“Any idea who the instigators were? Height, build, anything?” Andrea could be heard talking to her ear piece, trying to get a handle on the situation from a security standpoint. Her voice merely added to the heated arguing going on in the car.

Canidae angrily poked her rigid bicep in an attempt to get her attention. “Miss Sarchus! You’re my head of security, how could you let this happen?”

Andrea rolled her eyes behind her dark glasses. “Miss Canidae, please, I’m trying to get a handle on the situation as we s— Miss, you’re bleeding.” She reached under the car seat to retrieve a compact medical kit. As a voice spoke in her ear she only half-listened. Her paws worked, gingerly removing an alcohol-dampened cloth and pressing it to the councilwoman’s cheek. “Hold this there.” She instructed.

Canidae did so with a half pout. She leaned away from the hyena and back into her seat as the car glided down Acacia street.

“You’re taking me home? Won’t the media be contacting us for a statement?” Canidae looked up to Urswald, urging him to give control back to her.

Urswald sighed, “Aurie, your attack dog there is glaring daggers at me through her glasses I just know it, so I’m afraid you’re going home for now.” He glanced down at Andrea, who stared at him the entire time he spoke. “Look, if you want to give them a statement, just tell me now and we’ll be prepared when they call the office.”

“Sir, my cellphone’s already buzzing.” The lynx aide offered nervously, looking between Canidae and Urswald.

Canidae was wincing and shutting her right eye tightly. Despite her desperate willingness to handle the situation, she had to admit the thought of going home and putting some ice where the bottle had struck her was tempting.

“Fine.” She said, “Tell the media that I am deeply hurt that our citizens were put in danger by a vocal few who sought to disrupt the public order. Tell them that I will continue to campaign with the same vigor and commitment to the mammals of this city as always.” As she spoke, she turned her head away and looked out the tinted windows, not wanting to be seen in pain by her staff.

The car soon stopped just outside a tall apartment building. Canidae slid out of the car without saying a word to Urswald or the aide, and Andrea followed her. The hyena sighed as she took her earpiece out, letting it dangle at her neck. They passed the rhino doorman and headed toward the elevator.

“Miss Canidae, things like that are bound to happen. It’s a heated year. Much worse than when Lionheart was running.” Andrea was trying her best to placate her, but she didn’t seem to be having it.

Canidae was still holding the cloth to the cut on her cheek. “Yes, I know. I just wish the crowd didn’t bear the brunt of it. There were cubs in that audience. What happens if someone gets hurt in an even worse stampede next time?” She was beside herself.

Once they reached the top floor and her spacious apartment, Andrea retrieved some ice from the refrigerator. She wrapped it up in the cloth Canidae had been using and gently pressed it to her face.

“That should reduce the swelling. Just get some rest, miss. I’ll have someone keep an eye on the building, but with the elevator having a code and all there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing. Just doing my job. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Very well… Andrea?”

Andrea grunted inquisitively.

“Say hello to John for me.”


	5. Sheep Before You Look

Tired. Worn. His body was calcified, toughened by his hate, like one gristly muscle. But Clovis didn’t like to think of himself as old. It took credit from him. He was still ambitious, still strong. The ram was bent over his desk in the dark of his office. He had pulled the Venetian blinds, and the setting sun peeked through them only marginally, casting an array of golden lines across his black wool. An orange dot followed his mouth – the light of a cigar.

“How do you do, Penelope.” The ram grumbled. His voice was rich and gravelly. It wasn’t really a question he was asking; just courtesy. Courtesy he didn’t have to extend.

Across the desk, the ewe perked up. She was at attention before, but; now she was rigid. Her elbows were tucked into her chest, and the dark, pressed suit she wore matched that of the mammal across the table.

“Another day, another dollar, Mr. Capriden.” She replied. “I’m beginning to think it’s impossible for us to falter. Every day has been a success. Hearts are won. Minds are inculcated… Ah, but of course, few things could heal the scars from Bellwether's failure. Woolter and Jesse, too. We're still keeping dear Mr. Ramses under house arrest and safe from the scrutiny of the police department's investigation. He’s shaved down his wool and he’s lying low in a Herd street basement. All this is a minor setback.”

“And the finances?”

“All black, just how you like it. I held the quarterly meeting just a month ago, actually. Investors love the fact that Hooves and Hearts is one of the most well-respected charities in the world. Just another cog in the wheel, I suppose.”

Clovis smiled in the darkness. “Give not blades unto the hungry prey, but blades of grass, and they shall flourish in harmony.” He said, emphasizing the importance of the quote with his austere tone. “These lives of ours, Penelope…” A puff of smoke emanated from his mouth. “To what do we devote them?”

Automatically, Penelope replied: “To silently guide the world to greatest fruition. To declaw the predator. To defang the wolf. To ensure it is the meek who inherit the earth.” It was a practiced line. She had known it forever.

“Good. Yes. Silently. There’s the problem of the mayor’s office. With our girl in prison, a pig’s in the seat. Penelope. You know a wolf is running against her, don’t you?”

Penelope nodded. She squinted through the darkness to watch Clovis’ face. Never once did his eyes meet hers.

“You know, I thought we had seen the last of their ilk when her father died. I was close to that man. As close as a sheep can get to a wolf.” Clovis muttered, the taste of smoke rolling over his tongue as he said each word.

“She’s proven to be a tenacious individual, Mr. Capriden. If I recall correctly-“

“That’s enough, Miss Wullen.” Clovis let his voice raise ever so slightly. Penelope immediately stopped talking, and he continued. “I don’t think it would be prudent to kill her, as I’m sure you would be happy to arrange. After all, we cannot shoot our problems into extinction. Run some interference on her instead. Smear her. Turn the minds of her voters against her. ‘Predator apologist.’ Something like that. You’re the PR girl; work your witchcraft.”

Clovis took a long draw on his cigar and the end blazed brightly. He held out his hoof, and Penelope leaned forward enough to rest her chin in his palm.

“I know she’s big game, Mr. Capriden… I’ll do my best. But why are you so obsessed with this Canidae family?”

Clovis rubbed Penelope’s chin gently, but his dark eyes never met hers. He stared straight ahead.

“Thirty years of work is reason enough to be obsessed. There's a bit of revenge I must exact. Effort wasted that I seek to reclaim. When it is done, only then can we truly begin to purge the carnivora order."

Penelope stayed silent, anticipating either further explanation, or further instruction.

"Now. You do as you’re told. See if you can’t get a little more to blackmail her with first. I’m going to offer her an ultimatum soon enough: my collars, or her candidacy disappears.”

Penelope was silent, placid. She adored this feeling, the touch of the mammal she admired most in the world. The touch of the ram she had devoted herself to for so many years, who had given her every opportunity. Her loyalty was more like love, she thought. _Just a little longer…_

Before she was able to relax completely, Clovis slowly drew his hoof away. He rose in his chair and turned to open the blinds. The light hit the blue ponds of Penelope’s eyes like a flash, and she squinted while they adjusted. She could make out Clovis stamping out his cigar in a dish on his desk. She could see his features, handsome in his youth but now hewn roughly by age. The great curve of his thick horns framed his face.

“That will be all, Penelope.” Clovis said as he gazed out the window at the downtown Zootopia skyline.

“Yes, sir.” Penelope replied quietly, gathering herself up and walking toward the door. She twisted the knob and stepped out into the brightly lit reception area.

Sheep crisscrossed in front of her, nodding their heads to acknowledge her as they passed. Penelope’s hooves clicked on the tiles below her as she adjusted her shoulders and confidently strode toward the elevators. This was her building, and this was her flock. Everywhere outside His office, outside His presence, she felt powerful.

On top.

An employee jogged alongside her as she walked. His glasses were askew and his arms full of manila folders.

"Miss Wullen, I just wanted to inform you that your suggestion to alter the wording on the quarterly report was met very favorably. They're drinking champagne downstairs. We're up five percent."

"All part of the job. Do give them my regards, I'm afraid I won't be celebrating with them today."

"Matters of import, miss? I noticed you just came from His office."

"Yes. It's time to polish our horns for striking."

"Amen to that." The sheep said, and nodded to Penelope as she stepped into the elevator alone.

The interior of the elevator emanated soft string compositions. Baach, a favorite. Several floors down, Penelope stepped out into another lobby, and then into her own office.

Penelope’s office was spacious. Immaculate, like most other aspects of her life. Well-organized filing cabinets sat next to bookshelves with volumes on administration and public relations. Numerous plaques for achievement hung on the wall, and the nameplate sitting on her desk read ‘Penelope Wullen, PR Director.’ Her favorite chair, plush black cushioning with silver metal, sat behind her desk. It offset her white wool as if it was her own shadow.

As she sat in her chair, she slid her cellphone out of her purse and made a call. While it rang, she cleared her throat.

“Hello Urswald. I haven’t had the pleasure of hearing your voice in some time. Tell me: in your professional opinion, what would bring Miss Canidae to her knees?”


	6. Penny for Your Thoughts

The lights of the Palm Hotel and Casino were bright enough to necessitate squinting even at night. Palm street was inundated with herds of glitzy camels, gazelles and lions. High above, the starry sky was all but smothered in the radiating yellow light from the hundreds of windows decorating the side of the gargantuan building. Down below, Penelope Wullen shuffled out from the red sedan that had brought her there. A moment later, the driver zipped off. At her side, a ram dressed in an impeccable Giorgio Armuli suit acted as her escort.

Penelope smoothed out her blue pencil skirt as she took in the sights and sounds. It was painfully apparent that she didn’t fit in with the low slung, backless dresses other women were wearing, but she was never the flashy type. A skirt, a blazer, some heels for height and her handbag – that was everything. She passed through the sliding glass doors of the hotel and casino to a sensory explosion of slot machines, cheerful conversation, and music. Reflexively, she scrunched up her nose at the scent of tobacco smoke. It wasn’t like Clovis’ cigars at all, and it certainly wasn’t to her taste.

“Woolliwell, how was your weekend?” Penelope turned to address the ram as they strode toward the elevators, skirting around groups of half-drunk socialites stumbling through formalities.

There weren’t many sheep or shorter prey present at the Palm, and it made it easy for them to slip in between the crowds and toward the elevators. Penelope pressed the call button and just the two of them entered.

“To my liking, Miss Wullen. I was in my studio all weekend, as you know. As an artist, my work is the speech of the soul. I never have a bad weekend when I work.” Woolliwell didn’t look at her as he spoke, instead staring at the elevator doors as they closed. The elevator began to lift them upward. His reflection was visible in the burnished gold metal. He was a tall ram, and fit, though one could barely tell through the grey-white wool. His eye-catching horns curled back around themselves.

“Good. So you finished the piece I commissioned?”

“Yes Miss. Expect the receipt in your office by tomorrow. It was challenging to portray, but it is always a pleasure to be in your service.”

“It is always a pleasure to see your work, Anton.”

A ding sounded, and the elevator doors opened. The meeting floor looked all but abandoned, as was requested. Money spoke louder than a single ewe ever could, and Penelope was glad she had plenty at her disposal.

Woolliwell gestured with his arm, and Penelope stepped into the hall. She turned her head left, then right, then made a bee-line for the designated meeting room with Woolliwell following her closely. The intricate curling ornamentation on the walls reminded him of his horns. He rather liked the Palm.

Woolliwell stepped in front of Penelope to hold the door open. She nodded to him as she passed through the threshold and heard the door close behind her a moment later. In front of her was sitting an enormous example of a predator, and not one she particularly liked. Though, she didn’t inherently _like_ any predators at all. Distasteful as he was, she trusted his devil may care outlook more than any bleeding heart mammal's supposed sincerity.

“Took you long enough. Years are treating you well, girl.” The brusque voice of an old bear. Familiar like an acutely discordant tune.

“My god, Urswald, you look like a you lost a fight with an elephant. But don’t worry. Underneath all that fur and smoke I’m sure you’re still one of the sharpest minds in this industry.”

Penelope drew close to the lacquered table across from the bear, eyes following his as she pulled out the seat and climbed up onto it. Even with the boost, she wasn’t anywhere near his height. The knowledge that Woolliwell was standing at the door was consolation enough. Urswald was alone before her.

“Thank you, Penny. Glad you brought your man with you. He still play piano?” Urswald asked, stamping out a nub of a cigar into a crystal tray and pulling another from his shirt pocket.

Penelope nodded. “Anton is an artist; he has many talents. Now then, formalities aside, there is the matter of your little campaign. Professionally, I think ForestBound has made an excellent name for itself in the campaign management industry. From one public relations expert to another, I’m quite impressed with your company. That being said, we both know you’re backing the wrong candidate, and we both know that we’re poised to do something about that, wouldn’t you say?”

Across the sleek, cream colored table, Urswald clipped the end from his cigar and squeezed a button on a blowtorch lighter. The blue flame gushed from the end for just a moment, and the cigar began to sizzle crisply as the bear sucked on it. He took pleasure in the moment of stillness. The meeting room was dead silent, a dozen chairs unfilled and the presentation screen inactively blank.

“Thank you, Penelope. You always were an excellent colleague. Your panels at the last conference I attended were stunners. Now, I’ve told you what I’ve been able to find out about Canidae; you’re really spoiled for choice when it comes to how you want to eliminate her… But that’s a question right there. _Do_ you want to eliminate her? I thought you would prefer to watch her squirm.”

As the bear spoke, his eyes drifted over Penelope’s wool coiffure to the stoic ram standing motionless at the door.

Penelope smiled, but not with her eyes. “No. My superior has yet to communicate that. But I do know that I’m supposed to make her life difficult any way I like. After all, we can’t have her win this election. Then again…” Her voice lilted as she thought aloud, “If she does win… And we destroy her then, we might be able to get another sheep in office.”

Urswald laughed dismissively, “If that’s really what you want. Fine job you cud chewers did last time.”

“Of course it’s what we want. A predator in power? Don’t misjudge me, I’m not a fool. I know she’s not going to mandate the hunting of prey or some such nonsense, but the bottom line is that predators have overstayed their welcome. They’re unnecessary. Prey are… prey are destined to be the future and I will not let some genusist predator cling to outdated, foolish ideas about superiority and impede society’s progress. _She_ believes the same about us, I'm quite sure.”

Penelope felt Clovis’ words in her head as she repeated them. She believed every word. If she closed her eyes she could imagine it was Clovis sitting in front of her. When she did, the cigar smoke, black and curling like her master’s wool, became less offensive.

Urswald took her rant in stride. “Yeah yeah, and the difference is she's wrong and you're right. Whatever you say, Penny. I’m just living for the thrill. The money. The good cigars. I turned fifty-two last year and I don’t give a sideways fuck about the future. You can have the world, if you think you can handle it.” He let out another snorting bout of laughter. “So do you want to smear Canidae or not? I’m getting bored of listening to her shout at me. Nothing she wants to do can be accomplished. It’s obnoxious. She’s an idealist, near as I can tell. Unless the whole thing is a ruse. I mean, as long as her bucks are green I’m happy to take them, but a campaign is tedious without some difficulty. She’s real easy pickings, as unpleasant as she is.”

Penelope huffed. “One supposes that your lack of attachment to politics – or anything, really – is why you are such a shrewd public relations bear. I do want to smear her. She’s doing too well for our liking. How about her love life? She sees a new wolf every month. She has no stable relationships in her past or present. And you tell me she’s a lesbian. It’s as if she _wants_ to alienate conservative voters. How about we send all this to The Wall Street Gerbil?”

“Anything you want, blue eyes. You know, I really thought you were going to come here and tell me I had to find a new job. I mean, you bring him in here?” Urswald stared over at Woolliwell for a moment. “I thought for sure you were going to tell me when and where to have Canidae for an assassination.”

Penelope kept her eyes on the bear. By the door, Woolliwell continued to wait patiently.

“As I said, the kill order has not come down. I’m not going to speculate as to why. You leak the information we’ve discussed to the press, details, and get her tail tucked between her legs. Then I’ll contact her through a third party for a little blackmail when her guard is down. She’ll be so worried about her poll numbers that she’ll have no choice but to acquiesce.”

“Suits me. I hope you get what you’re after, whatever it is. Not my business.”

Penelope nodded curtly and hopped out of the chair. She moved to where Woolliwell was standing and spoke over her shoulder.

“Good deal, Urswald. Your check is in the mail. I suppose you’ll be doing some gambling downstairs?”

Urswald stood, towering over the two sheep. His lips, black and barely covering his enormous, yellowed teeth, bent upward into a grin. Perhaps he was handsome once. But perhaps not.

“Penny, I was gambling before you got here. What the wife knows won’t hurt her. Tell your boss I said hello.” His voice rumbled after Penelope as she left the room. He sat there by himself, picking the cigar out of his mouth and admiring it before stamping it out.

“There’s no need for that.” Penelope responded as the door closed behind her.

Penelope and Woolliwell returned to the elevator. As they walked, Penelope fished a handheld listening device out of her purse. The doors of the elevator opened in front of her, and she stepped inside. Once they closed, she spoke, holding the small black compact-shaped device up to her mouth.

“August seventh, meeting with Bjornsson. He remains amenable. No further suggestions.”

“Miss, not to speak out of turn, but…”

“Out with it, Woolliwell.” Penelope clasped her hooves around the device for a moment before stuffing it back into her bag.

“Do you suppose you’ll ever commission me to paint that bear’s portrait?”

“I do. Predators must be painted. In shades of red, preferably.”


	7. Bleating Up The Wrong Tree

Chief Bogo had just finished handing out the day’s cases. With his usual uninterested tone, he called Wilde and Hopps into his office as the cherry on top of his sundae of assignments. Nick and Judy looked at each other for a moment before climbing down from their shared seat and following the chief to his office.

Once seated, Bogo leaned over and pulled a manila folder out of a drawer. He placed it on the desk, open, in front of the officers.

“I’m not sending you out today. Your injuries are too recent. We’re going to look at your ongoing case and see what you can do here at the precinct without putting yourselves in danger.” He looked down his broad nose at the fox and bunny, awaiting their response.

“Just point us in a direction and let us go, Chief.” Nick assured.

Judy nodded. “I’m as eager to get back to work as anyone.”

“Right. Here we are then.” He tapped his hoof against two mugshots – two wolves. “Packsley and Wolfdorf. We brought them in the same night we picked you up, as you know. It’s been thirty hours since their arrest and we’re running out of time. Packsley’s already been released. These are influential mammals and they’ve both had lawyers barking down my neck about their bail and whether or not they are being charged. The long and short of it is: I’ve been waiting until you two returned so that you could question our remaining suspect.”

“Say no more, Chief. We know what we’re looking for.” Nick’s tone was gruffer than he intended, but the thought of Doug still out there somewhere put him in a foul mood.

Judy tugged on his arm and they hopped out of the chair.

Bogo followed them.

“Chief?” Judy inquired, turning her head upward

“I’ll be watching behind the two-way, officers.”

Nick and Judy understood at once, and continued out of the office and back into the bullpen. From there, they went downstairs to the interrogation rooms where the wolf were being prepared.

“Just a moment.” Bogo halted them with his voice alone. “Here are your ear pieces. I’ll tell you if I want anything asked. When I tell you to stop, you stop.”

Nick’s ears lifted for a moment before he understood. He slid the small device into his ear and waited to make sure that Judy had done the same.

“We’re on it, Chief.” Judy insisted.

One after the other, Nick and Judy stepped through the door that led to a hallway lined with interrogation rooms. Finally away from Bogo for a moment, Nick took a chance to ask a question.

“Carrots. Tell me again what we need from him?”

“We need to know what he was doing with Doug. He’s the only lead we have. Apparently they haven’t been able to find the vehicle – some of the traffic cameras were disabled that night.”

“Curious…”

“I don’t like it either. Let’s just see what we’ve got.”

“Right.”

“…Glad you’ve got my back, Nick.”

They entered the interrogation room together, and each took a separate chair. Wolfdorf was cuffed to the table and a muzzle kept his teeth at bay. The sight gave Nick a subtle twinge of discomfort, but he had seen more than his share of muzzles since he became an officer.

Nick and Judy weren’t tall enough to intimidate a wolf, and they knew that. Still, they had to do what they could.

“I’ll make it quick so you can get back to playing golf, eh, Wolfdorf?” Nick began, eyes drifting down to his own claws as if disinterested in the whole affair. “Doug Ramses. How did you know where to find him? ZPD’s been looking for him for a long time now.”

Wolfdorf’s blue eyes stood out against his greying fur, and his lips were fixed in a permanent snarl. He didn’t seem to like being in a muzzle. He was still in his clothes from the last time that Nick and Judy had seen him.

“You shouldn’t have stopped us. Where's my lawyer?” Wolfdorf grunted.

Nick snorted. “On his way. Stopped you? He had you both on the ground, unconscious. You’d be dead if we didn’t startle him.”

Wolfdorf grumbled in palpable annoyance. “The police are incompetent. Wolves are better trackers than any mammal, and we work together more efficiently than a bunch of mismatched species stepping all over each other’s tails.”

Judy frowned and kept her tone level. “Come on Wolfdorf, we asked you a question.”

Wolfdorf leaned back into his chair and turned his head away from the officers, starting straight at the two way mirror that showed him only his reflection. "I tire of your paltry investigations."

Nick turned to Judy just as his earpiece crackled to life.

"Try another angle." Bogo ordered.

"Well..." Judy thought on her toes in the interrogation room, as eager to prove there as anywhere else. "If we're so incompetent, we're going to need your help. Sure, we have a few wolf officers on the force -- you want to talk to one of them? Or maybe none of us are good enough for you? That's all the more reason for you to help us. We need you."

Wolfdorf smirked in response. “You do, don't you?" He turned back to the officers and looked between them, a smirk visible beneath the muzzle. "We track the movements of sheep. There is a certain… distrust between our kind. So let’s call it a private investigation. We found Ramses. Got the drop on him. Four wolves to one sheep… You see, he had been sheared to avoid detection, that is what you police failed to notice.”

Bogo’s voice rumbled in Nick and Judy’s ears, “Press him. What did their investigation return?”

Judy spoke up. “So you got him, great, but he got away. Did you learn anything? Anything we should know? Otherwise all your hard work has been a big waste of time.”

Wolfdorf began to growl under his breath. “We did. Roughed him up a bit, you know… But he admitted he was on a job. He was spying on our meeting places hoping to catch Miss Canidae’s security off guard. Put one of them down… Wouldn’t say who, though.”

Nick’s tail swished in consternation. He looked to Judy, who returned the glance, then went on.

“Put down… You mean… Murder? He must’ve decided Nighthowler wasn’t quick enough. That’s all you got? Then you took him out into the snow to… What?”

“Nothing, officer. We were just chatting.”

"Pride." Bogo's voice again, raised just slightly to indicate they were onto something. "Reel him in."

“With your claws and fangs alright. Attempted something, that’s for sure. You were just no match for him.” Nick said, eyes narrowing. The wolf snarled at him again, darting his head forward. Reflexively, Nick put his arm in front of Judy.

“A wolf is every match for a sheep. Your intervention was what ruined the whole affair!” Wolfdorf roared angrily, thrashing in his cuffs. “But you know what, you’re right! We should have left him to his devices, so he could kill that turntail’s help!”

Bogo calmly gave the order: “You’re done. Get out.”

The two officers climbed out of the chair and headed for the door. Once Judy was out, Nick closed it behind her. He stomped toward the wolf, who still towered over him, and said his piece:

“Look pal, you’re sounding awfully close to incriminating yourself. I know it’s not easy waking up in a jail cell after a sheep puts his hoof prints on your face, but that’s where you ended up. Unless you say otherwise, I’m going to go ahead and take ‘kill that turntail’s help’ as a threat.”

Wolfdorf scowled. He turned his nose up and looked away. “You’ve seen the news. After she couldn’t handle a little riot, the Wall Street Gerbil comes out with their story about her perverted sexual preferences. Women! _Prey!_ Such practices are anathema in our organization. She’s done. Between this and not complying with mateship tradition, she’ll be no friend to wolves.”

Nick made a face, a mix of perplexity and disapproval. What was this guy howling about? He turned and stormed out of the small room, leaving the wolf by himself.

“Nick!” Immediately Judy yelled, her ears down. “You heard the chief! What were you thinking!”

Nick averted his eyes. He shrugged. “Thought I could get a little more out of him. Didn’t want you in there in case… In case…”

“Nick, that’s not- that’s no reason to-“ Judy stammered, just before Bogo came plodding over.

“Hard of hearing, Wilde?” He demanded.

Nick lowered his head and cast his glance to Judy. “Couldn’t quite hear you through the static Chief. You’ll have to get these things fixed.”

“It seems to be my officers’ methods that are in need of repair, Wilde. Plans have changed. We just received a report of a vehicle fitting the description of the skidoo your suspect was driving abandoned in the docks district.”

Judy tilted her head back to look up at Bogo, “You said we weren’t on the beat today.”

Bogo shook his head. “I just want you to investigate. You call dispatch if you come across anything. Do not engage any suspects. Call for backup.”

Nick nodded. He knew better than to cross the chief twice in quick succession.

“Come on, Judy.”

 

* * *

 

The quiet hum of the police car’s engine as it revved and slowed in downtown traffic filled the silence between the two partners. It was Nick who broke it, wondering aloud.

“You think Doug’s halfway to another continent by now?”

Judy gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. “The wolf said it himself. Doug was working a job. Not sure how they got that out of him. Bogo said he was going to ring up the councilwoman’s security staff regarding the threat.”

“Hm. Not sure what to think about that. The way that wolf talked it was like… He was part of some big family and didn’t want Canidae to be part of it anymore. But why target her security? Why not her?”

“Same reason someone attacks an officer, Nick… You eliminate those who protect and leave others unprotected. The wolves aren’t our problem anyway; if Doug is still in Zootopia we need to find him and find out who hired him. I thought Bellwether was the end of the line…”

The cruiser slipped between warehouses, both officers craning their necks looking for the spot where the stolen skidoo was reported, or the vehicle itself.

A jolt of realization hit Judy like a flash. “Wait. A skidoo in the docks district? How would they even drive it downtown?”

“Judy, hit the brakes or speed up.” Nick said quickly, his voice shaking.

Judy looked up just in time to see a crane drop a metal shipping container. Her paws fumbled the shift stick in panic, then Nick leaned over and slapped it into reverse. “Judy, hit it!”

The tires screeched as Judy pressed the pedal to the floor, and the cruiser shot in reverse. The smell of hot rubber filled the car. Nick and Judy winced as they anticipated the incoming tons of steel.

The massive crate fell, for all its red-painted metal, like a giant brick. The cruiser only had fractions of a second to reverse. With a roaring crash, the front bumper was struck by the crate's edge -- the back of the car shot up as the front was crushed, nearly catapulting Nick and Judy out of their seats -- a half second later, the car's rear half fell back to the ground, tires and shocks bouncing like the impact on a trampoline.

For a handful of breathless, mindless seconds, the two officers froze in their seats in disbelief that they were both still alive. Smoke was rising from the demolished engine block in front of the shattered windshield. Judy exhaled a shuddering breath before she reached down to pop the lock on her seatbelt  -- once she was sure the car had stopped moving. She turned to Nick as she heard the snap of him unbuckling his own belt, and she caught his frightful expression as he reached for her.

"You're okay?" Nick asked in a huff of death-concerned breath, barely able to catch his words as they spilled out of his mouth.

Judy wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her head against his chest. "I made it, Nick. Let's get out, okay? Just stay low. We have no idea who is out there. It could have been an accident.” Judy was trying to assess the situation realistically, but she felt more nervous than she was willing to let on. Her nose began twitching inquisitively as she stepped out of the car, as if one whiff of a suspect’s scent could save the situation.

The alleyway between two warehouses was a maze filled with crates and shipping equipment. Just over the top of the fallen shipping container the head of an enormous, giraffe-patterned crane peeked down at the chaos it had caused.

Judy squinted. Did she see someone climbing down it just now? She hoped Nick was keeping his wits about him.

Nick had fished his radio off his belt, and with a static squawk it activated.

“Precinct this is Officer Wilde we have an 11-99 at the docks.” The code: under attack, assistance required. The threat – Nick wasn’t sure, but he trusted his instincts enough to know that something wasn’t right. Other than the crane ‘accident’, it was too quiet. The presence of the skidoo, or lack thereof, made him question the reliability of the report that had been received earlier just as Judy had.  He hoped backup would arrive in time to stop whatever was about to happen.

A shot rang out, and Nick ducked for cover. “Judy?” He called, hoarsely.

“Stay down Nick!” came her reply.

On the other side of the cruiser, Judy crept forward, slipping into a narrow space between two crates. She palmed her Taser and slid it out of its holster.

“Judy! I’ve got eyes on him.” Nick called, and Judy froze. “Wolf, top of the warehouse to the south! Where are you?” Another shot, and this time they could both hear it impact the metal of the cruiser near Nick.

“Nick! Get to cover!” She called back.

“It’s broad daylight!” Nick groaned at the attacker, “You’re going to ambush us in broad daylight?!”

Silence. Judy used the opportunity, pushing herself between the crates until she was on the other side. She kept her ears down as she tilted her torso, edging the side of her face around the corner. There on top of the warehouse stood a wolf with a black pistol in his paws. She was behind him – he couldn’t see her. But with help en route, wasn’t the smarter choice to wait?

He had Nick pinned down. She couldn’t wait. She couldn’t let anything happen to him… She’d never be able to forgive herself, not after all they’d been through.

Judy was small, and barefoot. She knew her movement wouldn’t project much sound if she was careful. Taking caution to avoid the shooter’s line of sight, she skirted around the body of the crane. She deftly climbed up the side and hopped her way up the neck, stopping on the top of the crane where she could peer down at the wolf. She was several stories high, but adrenaline pumped through her fast enough to inure her to vertigo.

The pop of her Taser discharging took the wolf by surprise, but his ears didn’t raise to the sound. He turned just as the probes hit him in the chest and stood still, facing Judy.

He laughed, and raised his gun at her.

A shot rang out, crisp and clear.

But it wasn’t the wolf. It was Nick.

A dart punctured the wolf’s neck, and he fall backward onto the roof with a moan of pain. Judy saw her opportunity and crouched, bending her knees. She sprung from the crane to the roof, rolling forward as she struck it to disperse the kinetic energy.

“Drop the gun!” She shouted, rushing up to the wolf and grabbing one of his paws. As she bent over, she kicked the gun out of his other paw and it flew off the side of the roof.

The tranquilizer in the dart made him too weak to fight back. She snapped the cuffs on his wrists, then noticed something off.

The wolf’s fur looked strange. A seam of white was visible just below his neck. Cautiously, Judy pulled, and the wolf mask came off. Beneath it was the sheared and scowling face of Doug Ramses. Now, up close, she could see the bullet-proof vest beneath his clothes and suit of fur.

“You!” She gasped, and a smile came to Doug’s lips. His hourglass eyes peered up at her, swirling as the sedative coursed through his veins.

“Hopps. Been a while. Sorry about the shooting - these wolf paws are all thumbs.” He rolled his head and gave a weak laugh before sighing. “If you put me in jail, throw away the key. I don’t want them getting to me in prison.”

Judy leaned over the edge of the roof. Nick popped his head out and gave her an okay symbol. She returned it.

“Who?” She asked, “What was the job? Who hired you?”

“You wanna know? There are sheep that don’t like the idea of predators among us – or any other species, really. Anonymous donations to Bellwether… it’s all too perfect. Even she didn’t catch on. But they talked to me directly... Wanna make a deal, Hopps? I give you a few names...”

“Who?!”

“Can’t believe I missed your partner… I never miss…”

“Well, you missed him, so spill it before that dart puts you out.”

Doug chuckled, then grimaced. “Don’t know their names. They’re well connected. I had second thoughts. Ugh, the religious stuff is what rubbed me the wrong way. Something about Bleatings and defanging predators. I don’t like preds as much as the next sheep but this stuff was creepy.”

Judy paused, struggling to think. Nothing came to mind. “And the job?” She asked again.

“Job was… to... kill…” His eyes closed, slowly. She was losing him. “Night, Hopps…” His body fell limp.

“…Carrot sticks.” Judy cursed. The sound of sirens began to fill the air. Backup.

“Cavalry’s here, Judy. Stay with him until we’ve got him down.” Nick’s voice carried up to her. She smiled. At least he was safe.


	8. Pack to the Drawing Board

Canidae ducked her head down as she made her way into the vestibule, golden light from elegant wall-sconces beckoning her presence as eagerly as the lupine doorman. Her bodyguard followed behind her. A moment later she heard the door closer, blocking out the noises of late night downtown Zootopia. She tensed her shoulders as a wolf in a three-piece suit approached and took her coat. With a sigh, she looked up to her bodyguard. The hyena was a head or two taller than the wolf; above average height for a hyena, while Canidae had to look up at both of them. She was short for a wolf due to her hidden hybridity.

“Miss Sarchus, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait here. I’ll be leaving out the back in an hour. Is that alright? These meetings are… wolves only, as you know.”

Andrea hadn’t removed her dark glasses. She rarely did, even indoors. Even though it was night. She grunted in affirmation.

“Yes miss. Please be careful. I know tensions are high.” Her gaze softened behind her glasses as she looked down at her employer with a touch of devotion beyond that of a mere employee. She was concerned that Canidae was in danger now more than ever, even in the most innocuous locations.

“Don’t worry about me. Why don’t you get yourself some coffee and meet me around back? Oh, if you wouldn’t mind picking me up a nice, hot, butterscotch macchiato, too…”

“Ah, yes. Of course miss.” Andrea slowly drew away from Canidae to the front door. She peeked through the glass just in time to see her being greeted by another wolf, and wondered to herself whether she would be safe among even their ranks.

“Miss Canidae! Oh my dear, it’s so good to have you. After that nasty business at the speech I was worried they’d have you all locked up in a safe little box!”

He was an old wolf, grizzled, but dapper as a young man from thirty years prior all dressed up in a three piece suit and tie. He put his arm around Canidae as he spoke, much to her discomfort.

“A-ah. Mister Bayford. So nice to see you again. I remain my own woman even in times of duress, yes. How do you fare, and the other alphas?”

Bayford smiled toothily as he led Canidae down some lushly carpeted steps and through a further set of doors.

“Well, Miss Canidae, well. Good Mister Howlgrave is giving a speech right now. Why don’t we sit in.”

There was little room for Canidae to protest. After all, this was what she had come here for; a meeting of wolves. She complied to Bayford’s gentle pushing and entered the room in front of her. Inside, a coterie of wolves in grey robes were gathered, under which Canidae was sure they wore elegant suits and ties. Atop their heads and between their ears sat red fez caps with golden tassels and the tell-tale insignia of the Sacred Order of the Bared Fang.

Up on stage, Canidae beheld the portly figure of a wolf she knew quite well. Dr. Lucius Hargrave. He was a learned soul, a former professor of evolutionary biology, now retired at forty-nine due to his extreme ideas about species superiority. She had known him since she was just a girl and he was a dashing young man working an internship under her father. As she watched, the grey-furred wolf barked and scowled:

“What do I tell to a prey on the street who flinches at my presence? Are they right to fear me, or wrong? Well I tell you this, good brothers: we are wolves, we are the pack, and we are the epitome of predator biology. If it takes fear for mammals to recognize our superiority, then perhaps fear it shall be!”

The statement was welcomed with nodding and murmurs of acceptance and agreement. Canidae stayed at the back and politely declined a robe when one was offered her. Her ears perked as she noticed Lucius looking at her, and he beckoned her with his paw.

“Here is our lady of the hour. Miss Canidae, would you be so kind as to take the stage?”

Two dozen wolves were suddenly staring down at her. She wished there were more women than the small pawful, all older, all married, among them. With a nod, she crossed the room to the mild clapping of the assembled wolves, and climbed the steps to the low stage, behind which hung a thick, crimson velvet curtain emblazoned with the Bared Fang symbol.

“Here is the wolf who will usher us into a new era. The beloved only daughter and only heir of Konstantin Canidae, who was a dear friend of mine and a pillar of this organization. Don’t worry, my dear, you know I consider you a friend as well. Now then, by all means.” Lucius gestured to the podium.

Canidae took a step forward, lowering the microphone to her level and sweeping her eyes over the figures in the dim light of the basement room. It took a few moments, but she found her voice.

“Greetings, wolves of the Bared Fang. Have I ever told you how proud I am to be among your ranks? You have been so kind to induct me at such a tender age. Six years ago, when my father passed, I needed the guidance of my elders. You all rose to the call, because a pack protects its own. I feel as if my father has left me with… with a great gift, and a great legacy. And a responsibility. To all wolves. As I’ve said, no matter what harsh treatment by the public or press I receive, I shall not capitulate to the backwards ideas of prey who want nothing more than to push us down into the dirt as if we belong there.”

As usual, she was being forced to lie through her teeth. It seemed as if every time she had to talk about herself, she had to lie. What would Urswald be telling her to do right now? Laugh? As her thoughts turned to Urswald, she bitterly recalled how she had told him she would stand up for herself and be proud of herself. Now she found herself going back on all that, shrinking away from the light of scrutiny like she said she wouldn't.

The heat of the gathered crowd and the lights pointing at her seemed set on hypnotizing her into some sort of unwieldy slip of the tongue, but instead her speech drew more resounding cheers from the audience. Confidence filled her as she realized she still had the ability to wrap crowds around her little finger.

“Now, I have seen the cruel calumny, the spurious snares laid for me by the Wall Street Gerbil. Tell me, what does the pack do for a wolf ensnared? Is that wolf left to gnaw off her own leg in wretched desperation? Or can she depend on her pack? I refuse to be broken by the efforts of my mendacious detractors. Stand with me then, Sacred Order of The Bared Fang. Encourage your fellows. Stand with me on election day and show the mammals of Zootopia that a leader is willing to fight for the whole pack. That a leader isn’t afraid of her house being blown down.”

The wolves rewarded her powerful words with applause and further cheers. Laughter greeted her clever little insult against Swinton, and she bowed her head in deference.

“Thank you, wolves.”

Canidae drew back from the microphone and moved down toward the crowd, smiling at the gathered wolves with a practiced sort of smile that only she knew was false. The majority of them were men, many of them quite a bit older than her, and they could barely resist eyeing her sybaritic curvature as they admired her and her elegant dress attire. As conversations began to spring up around her, she engaged them with only a light touch. Then, artfully, she moved further away with each disengagement. It was at the fringes of the crowd that Lucius approached her with gentle blue-grey eyes and a soft smile.

Lucius was a large wolf, well-bred, but his age was beginning to show. He was soft and portly around the middle, but his straight back gave him a strength about him. A conviction, at least. He swept his robed arm around Canidae's shoulders.

“Aurie, that was quite a speech. Look at you, pretty as a picture. Pretty as the day I met you.”

Canidae blushed, “Lucius, when you met me I was eight years old. I was clinging to a door frame and peeking at you and my father as you went about your conversations. I wasn't pretty then and I hardly am now.”

Lucius put his paw under her chin, gingerly stroking it. “Shh. Nonsense. I was… what, twenty-one then, wasn’t I? My how the years pass. I never thought you’d be on the cusp of being mayor, my dear. Great things, of course, but…”

“I know, I know. I’m glad you’re all still willing to welcome me after…”

“Those bizarre preyophile accusations? Well, some of them believe it, but I don’t. We trust you. Come now. The most beautiful and most desirable unmarried woman in all our ranks a preyophile who’s only interested in girls? Absurd!"

Canidae remembered a practiced line, one she and Urswald had decided upon a few hours prior.

"Those claims were completely unsubstantiated. Any mammal can, under the guise of the reported word, turn the most base slander into a news story. It's deplorable. I should hope my brethren stand around me in this time, for a wolf attacked is a pack attacked."

Ah but, speaking of that, have you… perhaps… decided on a suitable mate? I mean, I know the Order has had dates arranged for you with almost every eligible male wolf of blood and rank… Yet, you turn them all down for a second date, isn't that so?”

Canidae immediately caught herself wincing, shook her head, and turned away from her old friend. “It is so. But I’m afraid I'm just not... Things are… Things are in flux with the election. Transitory. I don’t know what I’ll be doing in six months, where I’ll be living… Starting a relationship, one that is… One that…” She was startled by her own tears forming, dripping down the sides of her muzzle in rivulets that touched her lips with a salty dampness. She couldn't love a man, but she could lie for as long as it took. Maybe someday she'd be free of all this expectation.

Lucius saw this and put his paw to her face, his thumb drying the streak of tears on one side.

“Shhh-sh-sh-sh. There, there, I know… It’s hard, all this. But it’s for the best. When you’re ready, the Order will pair you with the wolf of your dreams, just you wait. You’ll finally be able to start a family of your own.”

He spoke so softly that Canidae closed her eyes just to listen. Then she smiled, not out of appreciation but at the depressing wistfulness of it all. Here he was, the only mammal who showed her such kindness and who she trusted to do so. Yet he espoused these backwards ideas. Ideas the entire Order shared. Ideas she never agreed with, not from day one. He was a borderline zealot, brimming with the same self-satisfaction she hated in all these wizened wolves from prestigious families, each clinging to their estates and holdings and companies and barking their relevance to anyone who would listen.

How could she ever tell them that she wanted out? Tell him?

When she opened her eyes she saw Lucius looking down at her with all the love her father himself had never shown her. She took a moment to ponder whether she thought of Lucius as a father… or as a wolf she could see herself marrying and bearing cubs with. The Order would gladly encourage the latter, even despite the age difference. She wanted to cry again. She remembered how things where when she was a cub, pining for, yet afraid of contact with unfamiliar mammals. Bereft of parental affection. She had latched onto Lucius, who she would find in the kitchen making tea after her father had passed out in a drunken stupor, ranting about her mother's death. 

Did she still have a filial affection for him? If push came to shove and the Order made its decree, could she bear cubs with Lucius, considering what she was?

The whole visit was beginning to weigh on her more than she feared it would. But then, attendance to an Order meeting when she was so reticent to be counted among them in the first place was always stressful. Stressful, but necessary. She had to keep as many friends as she could.

“I’m sorry." Canidae finally responded, turning her head slowly to look back at the crowd. "I wish I could say it were all easy. Why don’t we have a drink, perhaps catch up? The meeting is over, isn’t it? And they’re bound to have something around here…”

Lucius feigned shock, “Miss, this is a noble establishment characterized by its august occupants, never would I…“ He cut himself short and chortled. “There’s a sitting room just this way. I’ll pour us a brandy or two”

 

* * *

 

“That’ll be ten fifty, sir. Uh… ma’am?”

“Ma’am will do.” Andrea slipped a crisp ten and two quarters to the teenage antelope across the counter and took two drinks, piping hot, up in her paws. She could smell their aroma already, and was always happy to have a coffee so late at night. As it turned out, she was settling in to a more natural nocturnal rhythm in her old age. She slept when her employer was safe in her office, and protected her all night. Still, every couple weeks, she would have to go and visit her sons. She had to see her husband every day - she couldn't live without him. With the rest of the security team being so lax, Andrea fretted that her love for her family was putting her employer in danger.

The Ungu-latte’s turned off the lights just as Andrea left – closing time. She rolled her shoulders and tilted her head back, glimpsing the towers of Savanna Central hanging overhead. It was ten years ago now she patrolled these streets. She could feel the beat, feel her pavement beneath her paws, the same as it had always been. Only now, now she wasn’t a cop. There was a lack of satisfaction in her current job. Of course there was. But something about the woman she served, her idealism, her dedication; these were things that almost made Andrea feel as if she was serving as good a purpose as her badge. And her boys were going through college without debt thanks to Canidae; that certainly helped matters.

As Andrea rounded the corner of Herd street and Acacia she remembered the agreement to meet around back.

The alleyway was far darker than the adjoining street. Quiet, too, as if sound didn’t carry as well. The hum of air conditioning units attached to various buildings muffled her own steps, and she carefully moved one of the coffee cups to better grip it. She was looking forward to sitting down in the warm limousine with Aurelia, likely consoling her, and sipping the hot black coffee she had ordered for herself.

A distant howl sounded from somewhere outside the alleyway.

Andrea tensed, her hackles standing up like the teeth of a comb as she spied the figure of Canidae down the alley. Something seemed odd. Canidae was coming toward her, but she wasn’t wearing her coat. It was a chilly night for Savanna Central, and it wasn’t like her to forget her ‘hot cutter’ or whatever it was she called it. She was holding her paws under her elbows and… Was she…

Limping?

“Miss Canidae?” Andrea called. The steam from the coffees rose up on either side of her. “Come on, your drink’s still hot.”

Canidae looked up in alarm when she heard Andrea’s voice. She started to shake her head in a silent warning.

Andrea narrowed her eyes and caught sight of a shape behind Canidae. A moment of hesitation passed before she dropped the coffees and drew a heavy Bearetta pistol out of her vest. A second later, the cups exploded on the pavement. Andrea took a few steps forward, pistol at eye level as she lined up the iron sights.

Canidae had stopped. Andrea's earpiece crackled to life. Normally another security team member would be reporting, or Canidae would be speaking into her cellphone. But this time, the voice was unfamiliar. Someone else was using the secure line.

“If you fire, you’ll either hit her… or we will. Don’t try it.”

Andrea pulled back the hammer with a healthy click. “Scar over my eye doesn’t mean I lost it,” she grunted.

A tense pause made Canidae cry out in fearful anticipation. Her yelp was stifled when someone behind her yanked her still. Hooves were wrapped around her upper arms.

“What do you punks want?” Andrea hissed into her microphone.

“Out of the way.” Came the response, dry and unidentifiable.

Andrea took a step to the side, and Canidae, with a jolt, continued walking. As she neared, Andrea spotted the body of a ram behind Canidae, tucking himself down and holding a gun in her back.

Her lips curled into a snarl. “You think you’re going to get her out of my sight?”

The ram continued walking, his head now lifted up. Even he was taller than Canidae; the pistol shoved in her back looked large caliber. With a subtle screech, a dark blue van pulled up just outside the alleyway, blocking any escape. Its side door slid open. Canidae was whimpering, and the ram continued staring ahead. Andrea could tell he wasn’t the one speaking to her. She took a step forward. A warning step. The voice began to speak in her ear again.

“Two boys. Ages twenty. Are you so sure that you’re ready to say goodbye? Except you won’t get to say goodbye if you don’t stand down.”

Andrea in her tracks. A cold sweat dripped down her neck. She kept her pistol trained on the ram’s back as he loaded a squirming, mewling Canidae into the van, but she couldn’t bring herself to fire. Bluff or no bluff, they still had a gun to her boss’ back. And --

As the door to the van slid closed, Andrea caught a glimpse of Canidae’s terror-stricken eyes. Moments later, the van's tires squealed as it away with wicked alacrity.

Andrea cursed and holstered her pistol. She slid her phone out of her pocket as she jogged to the sidewalk, looking the way the van had gone. It was already out of sight. She pressed her phone to her ear, listening to the ringing intently.

“Come on, come on…”

A voice answered with a yawn. “Hello? Mom?”

“Hyenry, is your brother there? Where are you?” Andrea barked into the phone, her voice shaking.

“Uhh… Dylan’s in bed. Mom? It’s almost midnight, what’s going on?”

“Have you seen anyone suspicious near the dorms?”

“Just the R.A.”

“Ugh… Sorry Hyen, go back to bed okay? I love you boys.”

“Love you too, mom.”


	9. Drastic Crimes, Drastic Measures

Judy shook her head. It still didn’t make sense. “Here’s what I don’t understand. Why would he talk to me one minute and then completely close up in interrogation, except to refuse a lawyer?” She delicately rotated her carrot pen in her paws, gazing at it and absorbing all the memories it carried. She tried to link that case with this one. She was on the edge of fear. Whatever was going on felt big, but she didn’t want to say it.

The office around her was nearly empty – it was nearly one in the morning. Nick and Judy were sitting across from each other, matching Snarlbucks coffees on the table between them, while a ceiling fan silently spun overhead.

“I'm surprised he told you anything to begin with.” Nick grumbled, frustration evident in a subtle edge to his tone. “We’ve done everything we can in the interrogation room. Grilled him for twelve hours and he barely blinked. I can’t believe this guy.”

“We at least need to go over what we have, even if we’re not going to get anything out of Ramses.” Judy lifted her paw in the air, one finger poised as if touching items on a list. “Wolves who keep tabs on sheep catch Ramses and find out he’s on a job to assassinate someone on Councilwoman Canidae’s security team.”

“Wolves who are no friend to her, if Wolford’s complaining was any indication. You heard about the story, right? Of course the Zootopia Times will probably redact everything in that article sooner rather than later.”

“I did, right, but ill will isn’t a crime.” Judy moved her finger down. “Now, Doug said sheep hired him. Sheep who were donating to Bellwether anonymously – which means this doesn’t necessarily involve her.”

“I figured she cooked her books anyway. Not that- not that I know anything about that.”

Judy cracked a half-smile as Nick averted his eyes. “You’re a regular chef. But you know…”

Nick’s ears perked and he looked back at Judy. This time she was looking away.

Judy sighed, “I think everyone deserves a second chance. Becoming a cop cleaned your slate as far as I’m concerned, Nick. Just… Just don’t ever tell me about anything you used to do. Okay?”

“For you, Carrots, I think I can talk my way around my past.” Nick’s claws drummed once or twice on the table.

Judy nodded, then adjusted herself in her chair to gather her thoughts. Her feet dangled over the floor.

“So… It seems like the questions we have are… Who are these sheep, and what do they want with Canidae?”

Judy tried to remain impartial. Every day, for every case, she tried not to let her personal biases or suppositions get in the way of actual police work – actual evidence. Now, the idea that sheep would disrupt a wolf’s campaign for purely speciest reasons seemed to fester – and didn’t that make her speciest as well?

“There are a million crackpot theories out there, Judy.” Nick was carefully taking the lid off his coffee as he spoke. He picked up the hot cup and swirled it gently, then sampled the black roast within. “But floating them as police officers is completely different. I don’t know much about wolves, other than they make great marks because of the pack men- uhh, hold on.”

“Nick, please.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Another nervous sip of hot coffee. “So let’s look at the obvious one. They want to undermine her campaign. It’s election season and I don’t think she has a lot going for her other than this mayor bid. I mean, what does a rich woman do to piss off someone enough to attract an assassin? And this is no hatchet job in an alley, this is the real thing. Doug’s a professional.

“Even a professional has second thoughts. He said something about something religious talk from whoever hired him.”

“How many cults do we have data on?”

“Not many. That sort of thing isn’t exactly common in Zootopia. Doug didn’t like the sound of whatever they were pushing. Only thing is, we don’t have a shred of evidence implying this is true, do we? Everything is circumstantial hearsay. Doug could have been throwing us off the trail.”

Judy knew there wasn’t any evidence. Just a bit of tranquilized testimony and a bad feeling.  “I know. I know. Okay, let’s talk Canidae. First name Aurelina. Thirty-six. Born in Tundra Town, old money, father ran a defense contractor… Any chance this is some kind of vendetta?” Judy leaned over to rifle through a stack of files that had been resting on the table. She found the one for Canidae and flipped it open. “Says here she worked for Black Claw, but that’s common knowledge. What if this is revenge?”

“Hold on, you’re saying she’s marked because… she worked in a death industry? Judy, private guys aren’t always killers. The average security guard is about as eager to shoot mammals as a meter maid.”

“I know… But this isn’t random. The fact that it’s taking place now has to be significant.”

“Ugh, I knew this was going to get political. I can’t stand her as much as the next guy but that’s no reason to take out a hit.”

“It could be connected to some policy, or… just the fact that… I mean, sheep and wolves…”

Judy hated herself for saying it out loud. She half expected Nick to scoff at her. He sipped his coffee instead, rolling the idea around in his head. That was respectful of him.

“I want to believe they want her dead because she’s actually done something they don’t like, not because she’s a predator running for office.”

“Are we sure they want her dead? I mean… Killing her security isn’t going to guarantee anything… Unless that’s just step one.”

“Okay. So why not just take her out? Look, I’ve known Mr. Big a long time, and near as I can tell, mammals working security are always _collateral_ damage. Never targets.”

Judy balked at that. How long had she known Nick? Now here he was, worrying her with the... breadth of his experience. Sure, they were on good terms with Mr. Big now, but it had been a long time since their last meeting. Keeping things on the up and up meant not colluding with alleged crime bosses. But the things Nick must have seen, lived through, endured… Her heart beat in her chest as she thought about how many times they had been close to losing each other. She ground her teeth and looked down, away from Nick, as she remembered the sounds of the gunshots from earlier that day.

Every morning when she woke up, Judy had a ritual. While she got dressed, she thought about Nick doing the same thing. She thought about him putting on the uniform and the badge, just like her, and she thought about what it all meant. The dangers they opened themselves up to. The source of their passion. She never could pinpoint whether Nick had the same inherent urge to make a positive difference in the world that she did, even after getting him to admit he had cried during her speech at his graduation. Half the time she thought he joined just to be close to her. The other half… Well, maybe that little junior ranger scout was still inside him after all this time.

“That’s a good question. Why pick off security and not just her?" Judy took a moment before making some stabs in the dark. "A warning? Maybe they want to get her to drop out. You know, scare her? Do we know anything about her security staff?”

Nick opened his mouth to reply and was cut off by a shout.

Judy shot up, standing on her chair to get a vantage over Nick’s shoulders with both her ears up. Nick nearly dropped his coffee, whipping around just in time to see a large, dark suited-mammal make a bee-line for the chief’s office door. He was armed. Nick half dropped, half set down his dark blue ZPD mug and bolted from his chair, leaving Judy to follow. As she passed the stairwell, Clawhauser’s voice called up from the lower floor.

Judy turned her head to see him standing there on the third step, panting.

“Sir! You need… an appointment!” Clawhauser gasped; the portly cheetah was nearly doubled over.

Judy didn’t bother to dissuade him from coming up the rest of the way. She was too busy tailing Nick, following whoever had just run by to Bogo’s office. She turned on her heel and jogged toward the commotion, well-aware that even on the best of days, barging into Bogo's office without knocking was a good way to get an earful of angry buffalo. As she rounded the corner, she saw Nick standing in the doorway, and heard the tones of rushed conversation and disbelief.

“Mansa, I need you on this.” It was a gruff voice, deep, but with a feminine timbre.

Judy had never heard anyone use the chief’s first name before. She had only ever seen the word on paper in reports on which he had to sign off. Slowly, Judy took her place beside Nick, who had stopped just beyond the threshold of the door. From where she was, she could see outline of a pistol in the mammal’s coat, undrawn; no need to worry, right? She took a moment to examine the mammal. A hyena, tall and broad shouldered. She couldn’t see her face from behind, but her tail was lowered in a defensive, stressful position. Instinctively, Judy’s paws searched for Nick’s tail. She gripped the fur when she found it. Nick gave her a glance.

“Calm down Andrea. Tell me everything. I can order an all-points bulletin.” Bogo was extraordinarily calm given the circumstances. The woman’s chest was heaving, her shoulders rising and falling to coincide with her sprint up the stairs.

Nick and Judy watched as Bogo removed his glasses and seemed to warm in expression.

“At least two sheep. One driver, one shooter. No- no, there were more. They had eyes on my boys, Mansa, they made threats on my boys to keep me from helping her.” Andrea was panicked, but was putting up a fight to keep it under control. Her fists curled and uncurled, and she dug her claws into her palms.

“You don’t mean…” Bogo’s voice dropped an octave as he stood, towering over everyone in the room.

“They _took_  Aurie, gun to her spine. They loaded her in a van. Not a social call. We need to find her... We need to find her before we end up finding what’s left of her.”

“Fine. I’ll call it out now.” Bogo lifted the receiver off his office phone. Andrea put her paw out to stop him.

“No… No, you can’t do an APB. If word gets out that-” Andrea turned, her umber eyes peering at Nick and Judy over the rim of a pair of intimidating sunglasses pushed down her nose. She reached up to take them off.

Nick arched his eyebrows, but didn’t say a word. Judy tried to stay professional at the sight of the large trail of claw scars down the hyena’s cheek and the notches in her ears.

“Close that door.” Andrea barked, before turning back to Bogo.

Nick backpedaled and reached up to find the knob. The door closed cleanly with a sharp click of confirmation. He tuned back. As he listened, he folded his arms, but kept his tail against Judy’s leg.

“Please. If word gets out that the councilwoman has been kitnapped, her campaign will be over. The whole thing will fall apart. The media will-”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“I need CCTV access. I can do this. I can find her.”

Bogo slammed the phone down. Judy’s shoulders fell and her back straightened.

“Andrea, what do you think is more important: the councilwoman’s life, or her campaign? What do you think she would want you to do right now? Are you so sure that she would rather die than have her campaign damaged?” Bogo spoke slowly and deliberately, making every word count.

Andrea was silent for a moment. Bogo’s words had cut right through her. He was still as pragmatic as she was impulsive. “Just give me one day. If I can’t find her, I’ll call it in. You can turn the whole city into a media circus. You know I’m a damn good detective, Mansa. Give this case to me.”

With a grunting sigh, Bogo looked away. He reached down into his desk, sliding open a drawer and retrieving a framed photo. He set it on the desk, facing Andrea. The hyena visibly stiffened.

Judy couldn’t see Nick’s expression, just the back of his head. She stood on her tiptoes to try and see on top of the desk where the photo sat. It was old, a little faded, but in color. It showed Bogo, considerably younger, with a few other mammals gathered around him, each facing the camera. A hyena was standing next to him, slightly over waist height. All of them were in their academy uniforms, standing up bolt straight. A small brass panel below the photo had ‘Class of 1981’ printed on it.

“We never had a single doubt in our minds during academy. Then, one day, decades later, you throw it all away… And now you want to break the rules again.” Bogo muttered. “Last time it so disturbed Chief Weller that he retired. I made Chief not long after.”

“I remember. And you’re a damn good one. Just... Just let your better judgment lapse this one time. This is different. This isn’t my life or the life of a criminal. This is-”

“You have twenty-four hours. You’ll be under the supervision of two of my finest officers.” Finally, Bogo laid eyes on Nick and Judy. He gestured to them with his hoof. “Hopps. Wilde. Let me introduce you to Andrea Sarchus, former Lieutenant at this very precinct. You are to assist her on this case. I know how well you work under a deadline.”

Andrea turned toward the officers again, this time scrutinizing them. Her brow was pinched subtly in some undefinable mix of respect and concern.

Judy saluted her immediately, her attitude toward the hyena springing from the way she and Bogo had talked like friends. “Pleased to be working with you, Ma’am!”

Nick parted his lips as if to retort, his eyes narrowing. But something stopped him. He gave a curt nod instead and turned to open the door.

“Come on. We’ll go check the cameras.”

“Just a moment.” Andrea turned to Bogo as Nick and Judy led themselves out of his office. “Thanks Mansa. I know I haven’t been the best friend over the years. It was too painful to see my fellow officers.”

“No time to apologize, Lieutenant. Get to work.”

A wistful smile spread over Andrea’s lips. “Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Andrea saluted Bogo quickly before stepping out of the office. She closed the door behind her and took a deep breath.

The precinct hadn’t changed much in ten years. Other than a fresh coat of paint, the layout was identical to how it had been in the past. Walking through the halls after so long invited a heavy gravity upon her, a weight pressing in from all sides. She felt out of place, but at the same time, she felt like she was home. Thoughts of all the assignments she had missed and all the differences she could have made in mammals' lives plagued her as she walked to the offices flanking the bullpen. She didn’t need to see where the other two officers had gone to properly follow them – the precinct hadn't changed all that much.

The Zootopia Traffic Network login screen glowed in front of Nick and Judy. They each sat in a chair meant for larger mammals, hip to hip, as Nick carefully navigated the keyboard one finger at a time.

“Move over.” Andrea huffed as she entered the office. She pulled the keyboard toward her and, seeing that the password had been entered, began her search. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, sized more properly for her.

“Mind telling us what we’re looking for?” Nick piped up, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Near the corner of Herd street and Acacia. Dark blue van.”

Judy put her paw on Nick’s shoulder. “Hang on, she said sheep earlier. Ma’am? We have something to discuss with you.”

“…Go on.”

“We made an arrest earlier today, a ram by then name of Doug Ramses. Bellwether co-conspirator. We have reason to believe he was hired to kill someone on Miss Canidae’s security staff.”

“’Someone?’ I’m flattered. Who hired him?”

“ _That_ we don’t know.” Nick grumbled, staring at the monitor as Andrea worked her way through various cameras and time signatures. “Apparently, he said he turned the job down. Got spooked.”

“By what?”

“He mentioned his employers having some kind of religious overtones. Pretty creepy if you ask me. Do you know anything about religious sheep?”

“I’m afraid not. Miss Canidae doesn’t have a lot of sheep in her rolodex.”

“Hang on.” Judy’s eyes lowered as she thought. “We had a wolf suspect. Order of the Bared Fang. He said they track sheep, that they knew of the plan. Do you know anything about them?”

Andrea paused. “…No.”

“Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt Miss Canidae? Or her staff?”

“I…” Of course she did. His face flashed in her mind. “I have my suspicions.”

“Look, she’s out there somewhere.” Nick spoke, voice sharp with aggravation. “And every second you keep information from the police is another second she’s kitnapped."

“Hold it. Look.” Andrea gestured to the screen. Nick and Judy turned their heads and saw the footage playing out in relatively crisp color, striped by digital scanlines.

A speeding van driving up Herd Street, with Andrea running out of an alleyway just after. According to the timestamp, not even an hour had passed since the incident.

“Come on…” Andrea growled under her breath as she clicked along the road cameras, following the van. “It’s crossing into Tundratown. Got it. Snowcastle Way.”

Judy frowned. “But it turns off on a side street.”

“Better than nothing.” Nick was already sliding out of the chair. “We need to get moving.”

“What are the ZPD packing these days?” Andrea asked, following Nick out of the office with Judy in tow.

“Nothing lethal, if that’s what you’re asking. Not unless it’s an especially dangerous case.”

“Kidnapping of a city councilwoman by a group of possible conspirators, one of which tried to shoot you this morning?” Judy‘s voice came from behind both of them.

“Alright, good point. I think we’re plenty lethal with Miss Hand Cannon here.”

Andrea raised her eyebrows. “You noticed.”

“I’ve seen enough shoulder holster bulges in my time. What is that, a forty-five?”

“Fifty. Smith & Weasson. Guess that means you missed the Bearetta on the other side.”

Nick whistled. “Fifty. Oh, I didn’t want you to think I was staring.”

“Now hold on.” Judy’s broke up the banter purposefully.  “We’re going to need to keep this quiet, right? We need Tasers and dart guns – that’s it. I’m guessing the suspects are working out of some kind of residence. If we get the drop on them… It’ll be for the better. Don’t worry Nick, my cell’s on silent.”

“Good. So, Sarchus: are you going to share any more of that privileged information with us?”

Nick and Judy gathered up their coats – the last time they were in Tundratown they nearly contracted hypothermia.

“Alright.” Andrea started down the stairs, staring right past Clawhauser’s aghast expression as he rested against the banister.

“It’s her campaign manager. She hired him about six months ago to replace the previous one after that incident with the misprints.”

“’Spreads herself all over Zootopia’ wasn’t the worst slogan I’ve ever heard.”

“Nick! Quit laughing!”

“No, it’s alright.” Andrea pulled open the lobby doors, the night air cool as it swept in against her face. “I mean, everyone laughed, but her poll numbers went up that month.”

“What is her current manager’s name?” Nick tucked his tie against his shirt and adjusted his tie pin before slipping into the insulated police jacket. It was thick, but not enough to restrain movement.

“Urswald Bjornsson.”

Andrea headed toward the police parking lot, fired up. The familiar old feeling of working a case put energy in her; doubly so as the three of them headed into the field. For the first time in years she felt young again. Younger even than when she was forced out of the ZPD. After all that time, the blood coursing through her veins was still blue..

“Any reason to suspect him?” Judy opened the driver’s side door before anyone could beat her to it – she had the keys, anyway.

Nick climbed into the passenger’s side while Andrea slid in the barred-off section of the backseat.

“No. Other than that he’s an asshole.”

Nick couldn’t help but smirk. “Noted.”

Judy turned the key and the cruiser rumbled to life. This wasn’t some low-yield undercover jalopy. This was the real thing: a modified SUV with ballistic plating and a V12 engine. This was the beast she had gotten used to in her time on the force.

“If you’ve got anything else to tell us, do it on the way. Come on, Judy. We need to make tracks!”

Judy popped on the siren, the wail lifting the ears of all three mammals in the vehicle. The tires screeched as she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the glowing streets of Zootopia at night.

“Hold on tight. I'll have us in Tundratown before you know it."


	10. Paint a Bleat Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who followed this, I'm sorry for the wait. I put it on hold for a companion project that has yet to materialize.
> 
> Please enjoy.

Snowcastle. Tundratown. She was born not far from here in a Tundratown Hospital, on a dark summer night. Snow fell that day like it did now, but far outside the chamber Canidae found herself in when she awoke.

As faded splotches of brown paint and grey concrete came into view, she began to piece together what she could remember happening last; an alleyway, Andrea, a cold iron muzzle jammed into her spine. The darkness of a windowless van and the rough bleating of angry sheep as they covered her face and bound her wrists.

The basement was a freezer. Any central heating didn’t push its air down this deep. Canidae felt frozen by the pall of fear that hung over her. The lost time sat in her mind like a brick that she tried to calculate around – in vain. Could she call for help here? Where was she, and why hadn’t she seen more? Who had put her here? She guessed she had fainted from shock.

She squirmed. Her clothing was still on, though it was uncomfortably bunched where cuffs pressed into her wrists and ankles. The chair on which she sat creaked as she leaned forward and let out a barking sob. Her hair fell over her eyes, cutting dark slivers through the dim orange light emanating from a recessed bulb in the ceiling.

“You…” She told herself, her teeth chattering in the mist of her exhaling breath. “You are a city councilwoman. This is just a… difficult occasion.” Her voice quivered as she spoke to herself. She pushed the words through her teeth and shivered. “Rise to it.” Any approximation of grit wasn’t a trait of Canidae’s. She was verbally tenacious on the council floor, but when it came to strenuous physical exertion, she was a pushover.

Fortunately, the chair was a pushover too.

With a subtle rocking of her weight, Canidae sent the chair to the floor and came crashing down onto her shoulder with it. A wail caught in her throat as she reminded herself that her captors might still be near. She swallowed it and rolled from her aching side onto her back. It was painful – her weight pressed down on her paws and the metal cuffs pinched them.

“Sit up, girl.”

She tried and failed. Instead, she rolled onto her side, panting and gasping and finally getting a glimpse of the door. It was tall, made for mammals larger than her, and had a window plate blacked out by a coat of dark paint. There was no way anyone had left it unlocked, but wouldn’t it be foolish of her not to try?

It felt like minutes before she was able to struggle to her knees. She shimmied toward the wall and collapsed against it when she was near enough. For a moment, she lay there and attempted to catch her breath.

_Stay calm. Find a phone. Call Andrea._

When she opened her eyes, the handle on the door in front of her was turning.

It opened a quick jolt of several inches, then flung the entire way to the wall. A ram marched in, immediately spotting Canidae crouched against the wall to his left. His wool was orange-toned in the basement’s solitary, buzzing light, and his eyes flickered with casual malice when he reached out to grab Canidae by the scruff of her neck.

Canidae screeched reflexively, but hung there like a slab of meat. She was cuffed on each limb. Even if she had the mentality of a fighter, even if she had the mind of the noble predator she was expected to be, she would be helpless. She didn’t have either of those things, and she never would. The one thing she had were her senses.

She sniffed at him as he pulled her from the wall and pushed her to the ground. He smelled of cigars and gunpowder. He kicked the chair out of the way and she stole a quick glance at him before ducking her head back down. A black vest laden with pouches, armored pants, a watch.

“Won’t waste time. Ultimatum.” The sheep’s voice was deep and gruff. “Concede early on election day. Live to see Swinton’s second term.”

Canidae balked, but knew better than to answer. An answer informed by her mood, at the moment, might set him off. This, whatever it was – an interrogation? A blackmailing? – would only be to her benefit if she treated it like the council floor, where she could talk circles around her peers. Not that it ever did her any good when the one holding the veto pen was her honorable opponent.

But here? In this basement, it might do her some good.

“Answer, yes or no.”

Canidae jumped at the chance. “If I’m to say yes, I’m going to need some assurances, Mister…?”

“I’ve been instructed not to strike you, but I wager I could get away with one or two.” His voice changed, gruff instructions becoming grave threats.

Canidae’s felt her stomach lurch, and she nearly doubled over sobbing. If she had cried on the council floor, she’d have been laughed out of her seat. Now crying felt like all she could do. Sniffling and drooling, she tried to find a useful response.

“Whoever hired you is intelligent, as are you. I will concede… If I am beaten. Otherwise I would be dishonoring the mammals who vote for me.”

“Then beaten you shall be.”

Canidae’s eyes were already cast down. She yelped and winced, tucking in her shoulders as the ram shifted, raising his fist above his shoulder.

“Albert, you wouldn’t deface a ram’s canvas before the brush has been applied, would you?” A smoother second voice asserted itself.

“A-ah.” The other ram straightened, facing the door stiffly.

“Mister Woolliwell. I was trying to get her to accept the terms. Why are you even here? I thought you were painting upstairs.”

“I'm here for pleasure.”

“What?”

“I don’t usually get paid to talk, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity. Take your leave – you know her word can’t be trusted anyway.”

The ram who had been poised to strike Canidae left the room wordlessly, leaving her alone with this Woolliwell.

“I know a lot about you, Miss.” Woolliwell announced, closing the door behind him very methodically. He pushed at it to be sure of the seal.

“And to think I don’t know anything but your name.” Canidae responded to the floor.

“Yes. That’s all right. You haven’t taken the offer? It’s not a particularly good one. Not for a woman who was nursed on pride.”

“Pride has nothing to do with it. It’s dedication. I am a servant to those who elected me to city office and to those who believe in my campaign for mayor.”

“We both know that isn’t true.” Woolliwell paced the room. There wasn’t much space, and he occasionally brushed against her. He was wearing a suit, black, with yellow rubber gloves over his hooves. “Voters are stairs. You climb them and then you’re done. Elected leaders are poor leaders.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to convince me of… but it’s so cold in here I’ll accept whatever it is you want if you’ll simply let me get warm.”

Canidae could see her breath through every word. Hunched there with her paws behind her back, she wanted to believe there was a warm hallway outside that door, maybe even a toasty sitting room with a roaring fireplace.

“I want to be sure that you understand why conceding is important. That you’ll be powerless even if you win.”

“You’re going to all this trouble so that I can identify you in a police line-up?”

“Who will believe you? The prey police? The prey councilmembers? You’re outnumbered. You don’t have the votes to pass your bills and you never will. You’re an afterthought. You’re a kindness granted by prey to their predator charges. We are your stewards, and we decide whether you live, or whether, in just a few generations, you cease to exist.”

“You keep saying we…”

“Even well-meaning prey contribute. Unknowing apathy and willful ignorance are our greatest weapons against the status quo.”

“I’m having a conversation with a poet of statecraft. Couldn’t I do so without cuffs?”

Woolliwell stopped pacing suddenly.

Canidae expected anything – a hit to the back of her head, a kick to her ribs. In some small way, she thought this mammal civilized enough to let her speak unbound. She looked up at him, his face unmarred by expression, his yellow eyes glowing in the dim light. She didn’t know what he would do.

Woolliwell was reaching into his coat.

In a moment of macabre clarity, Canidae realized the room had never been painted.

“I-I heard him say your name. I'll tell the police. ” She said, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

Woolliwell retrieved a watch from his inside pocket to briefly check the time. As he did so, Canidae thought she briefly spied something colored a deep, azure blue.

“And that’s all you know. All you ever will know. You’re nothing but a dog. A mongrel, even. We could go public with your heritage, if you don’t want to concede? Then you won’t have to. You’ll be run out of office, if not by the general public, then surely by your supporters.”

Canidae’s blood froze as solid as the ice beyond the basement walls. Woolliwell seemed to realize this – he put his hoof on her shoulder.

“I’ve been very kind. Very understanding. I am usually not so talkative with a canvas.”

Canidae remained silent.

“I’ve… enjoyed this conversation. I do wish you have too. I’m afraid I have to be going – I have an appointment to work on a commission for my most generous patrons. As a politician, I’m sure you understand.”

His hoof lingered on her shoulder for a moment longer before he stepped toward the door.

“And remember, the sword of Ramocles is hanging now. Don’t let it fall. Concede.”

 

* * *

 

The police cruiser sped through Downtown Savanna Central, sirens off, but headlights blaring. Downtown never seemed to sleep, and Judy knew pedestrian traffic would be more of a problem than vehicles. In her time as an officer, she had dealt with more than a few drunken mammals stumbling out of downtown clubs and into the street. Streetlamps and enormous, brightly lit advertisements dotted every building.

All three of the cruiser’s occupants were on edge. Nick didn’t show it, relaxing back into his seat, but his mind was racing. What were they driving into? A kitnapped city councilmammal, some hyena who could have been a gang enforcer for all he knew…

“What are we driving into?” He blurted out.

Judy, for once, didn’t have an answer. She glanced up into the rear-view mirror and saw Andrea’s reflection behind the wire mesh normally used to keep criminals at bay.

“Ma’am?”

“Like I said. Three or more. Armed. If things get hot-“

“We’ll call backup.” Judy assured. “Her life is more important than her job. And we’re putting ourselves in danger going in without SWAT.”

“I appreciate your assistance.”

Something else weighed on Judy's mind, and, following Nick's example, she decided to bring it out. “Respectfully, ma'am, I never thought anyone could get Bogo to break protocol.”

Andrea exhaled a snort. “Mansa is a very sweet buffalo.”

Nick turned his body to look into the back seat. “We talking about the same chief?”

Andrea stared out the window as the cruiser turned onto Fruit Market toward the Mogul Street pass. “Mmmhmm. Used to go out drinking with him. Me, my husband, Bogo, and whoever else wanted to tag along.”

Judy reached to the dash to turn the heater on as they neared the mountains and steep roads. Snow started to pixelate the view ahead.

Nick scoffed and rested his elbow on the edge of the door near the window. “Chief No-go let liquor touch his lips? I can’t imagine. Must have been a different buffalo then.”

“Well, he wasn’t the chief. Weller was – ah, before your time. He’s since passed.”

“You ever heard of a Weller, Fluff?”

Judy shook her head – she was barely listening, all focus on the road and the task ahead.

“I… did have a question for the two of you.”

“Shoot.”

Andrea’s eyes drifted back toward the front of the cruiser and the two, relatively small mammals. “You broke the missing mammals case and brought down two corrupt mayors. I’m sure you’ve been asked all about that, but… What was it like, seeing the savage mammals up close?”

Nick put his left paw on the back of his neck and rolled his head. “Like seeing a million years of evolution going out the window and for your throat.”

There was beat of heavy silence between them.

“I was surprised when the details came to light. All it takes is one little plant to rob us of everything that makes us mammals…”

“We don't have to worry. It’s over.” Judy muttered with uncharacteristic terseness. She glowered at the road ahead, both paws on the steering wheel.

“Now that Doug’s under arrest, sure.”

“There are things other than plants that can put us in that place. When you’ve got no other choice, especially in our line of work, sometimes you have to use what you have.”

Nick and Judy glanced in each other’s direction.

“Look, there’s the street. Tire tracks are even fresh.”

Judy flicked the cruiser’s headlights off and slowed to a crawl. She eased the front tires over an embankment of snow, following the tracks into a thick, murky wood. The falling snow deposited heavy loads of snow onto the branches of trees overhead, and occasionally some would fall onto the windshield.

“Nothing more welcoming than Tundra Town at night.” Nick muttered, reaching his paws out toward the cruiser’s heating vents. When the car stopped abruptly, his fingers hit against the plastic covers. “Carrots!” He grunted.

“Shhhh. Look.”

Nick peered out the window toward a dim set of lights in the distance, and a plume of smoke.

“Is that.. a house? Out here?” Judy asked as she narrowed her eyes. The darkness and the distance didn’t make visibility any easier in the snow.

Andrea unbuckled her seatbelt and unholstered one of her pistols. “It’s not uncommon. Wealthy mammals build fortresses out here all the time. A refuge from the rest of us, I guess.”

“You think that’s where they took her?”

“Let’s get closer. The tracks continue out. Are you prepared?”

“I don’t want any more cases here for the next few years.” Nick commented as he pushed his door open. His ears tucked down at the sudden rush of cold.

Judy followed, and into the snow they went.

The three of them all but disappeared into the white expanse. They moved in a tight formation, ducking their ears and heads down. One by one they neared the edge of a frozen garden and hedges that had overgrown their original shapes. There, towering above them all, sat the stone chateau. A host of yellow-lit windows glared down at them, while the chimney steadily gushed its pillar of thick, dark smoke.

“How are we getting in?”

“Most of these places are old.” Andrea had to raise her voice to be heard over the snow and the wind in the trees. “There might be a service entrance in the back.”

Judy took point, her small stature making her the perfect scout. She circled around the hedges and continued for a few yards further before she held up her paw in a ‘stop’ motion.

“Tracks…” She whispered, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

The tracks were large, and messy, as if whoever made them had been trudging haphazardly through the snow. Perhaps they were signs of a struggle?

“This is it. Come on.”

Andrea had been right. They came across a side door, smaller, and surrounded by windows that emanated no light. It was dark on this side of the house, and as Judy put her paw on the doorhandle, she felt Andrea behind her, putting a paw on her shoulder.

“I’ll go first. She’s my boss. You two take my flanks. Let’s go in slow, silent, and armed. Weapons up.”

Nick was already priming his Taser. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Andrea took a breath with her paw on the door handle, pushing it lightly to ensure it was unlocked. It was. She exhaled and pushed it in with a smooth motion, ducking her head down and through the crack and letting her night vision do the work. Judy followed with her tranquilizer gun raised ready.

The smell was first. Charcoal, ash, and metal – and the unmistakable scent of sheep’s wool. Before them, an empty kitchen gave way to a long service hallway leading to a lit room. A greatroom, from the size of it.

Nick positioned himself shoulder to shoulder with Judy and continued on after Andrea toward the open doorway. The only sounds any of them could detect were the cracklings of a fireplace just inside. The entered in formation, Judy watched their flank as Andrea and Nick ducked in and aimed toward the corners and walls.

“Clear.” Nick called under his breath. His eyes swept the center of the room and widened as they focused on the tableau in the center. His jaw fell open before he covered it. “Oh, no...”

Andrea’s whole body wanted to shake. She wanted to drop her pistol and run to the center of the room where the tarp lay. She wanted to yell and roar and smash her fists against the walls for all the futile effort that lay before her. A body, strewn on the floor like emptied luggage. Unzipped and open. A life, laid out for the maggots.

But Andrea kept her composure. She marched toward and past the body as Nick and Judy watched her flank. The floorboards creaked as she passed over them and stuck her head out another door. One by one checked she doors as she paced the perimeter of the room. Methodically, she closed each door behind her while averting her eyes from the grisly distraction just steps away.

Judy kept her tranquilizer raised, but she couldn’t help herself. She bounded over to the center of the room, keeping low and watching Andrea’s motions as she worked the perimeter. When it seemed safe enough, she lowered her gaze to the floor to the body in front of her. It was enormous to her, with dark fur, completely naked. All around it, a white tarp glistened with collected blood.

“It’s… It’s not her.” Judy said aloud.

Andrea snapped her head toward Judy and shoved the last door shut, using the momentum to push herself toward her. She half-jogged and stopped just before the tarp. In another moment, Nick was at her side.

“If it’s not her, then who is it?” Nick tersely questioned, looking away. He looked at Judy instead. He wished they were somewhere else – somewhere safer. This close, he could smell the blood as clearly as if he was covered in it.

“It’s Urswald.” Andrea spoke plainly. She buried her emotions, her worries. She focused on the task, and the task was to find her employer. “I’m moving on. Call your back up. Call whoever you want. This election is over now, and I want her home safe.” Andrea moved toward the far door, one that lead to another hallway, before a crash startled all three of them.

“Get down!” Judy ordered, lowering herself and putting a hand on Nick to pull him low. She crept toward another door as Andrea made her way across the room to act as support. It was an unassuming door near the fireplace, and in its disrepair, it creaked when Judy inched it open. She winced at the sound, but her ears stood on end at the response.

A shriek coming from the other room.

“ZPD, on the ground!” Judy shouted, kicking the door the rest of the way open and sliding to the side. She felt Nick press next to her on the other side. She saw his Taser above her as he pointed it toward the door. Even with his proximity, every second they waited for a response felt like a slow drip from a faucet. Out of the corner of her eye, Judy saw Andrea reach one arm into the room and feel around the wall for a light switch. A moment later, the room illuminated.

It was some sort of library with another door leading elsewhere. That door was open, and in the middle of the room lie another figure.

Councilwoman Canidae.

She was on her knees, bent forward, with her paws out in front of her and her head down. She was completely prone, as if prostrating herself for prayer. Her clothes looked tousled, but she didn’t appear to be any worse for the wear.

“Please,” She begged, “Take me out of here.”

Andrea looked across the open door to Judy and nodded once when their eyes met. She holstered her gun and moved into the room, standing over Canidae and frowning at her cuffed wrists and ankles.

“You can’t walk like that.”

“Andrea!” Canidae stuttered, lifting her head up and squinting. The light in this room seemed so much brighter than the basement.

“This whole estate is a crime scene. You two, call it in. I’ll get her out.” As Andrea spoke, she leaned down and picked up Canidae with one arm under her knees and another supporting her back. She could feel the councilwoman shaking in her arms and couldn’t imagine what was going through her mind. “It’s going to be okay.” Andrea assured her. Her voice was soft and low, tone the same one she used to calm her sons when they had scraped their knees or encountered the more discouraging hardships of life.

“Central, this is Wilde with Hopps and Sarchus. Calling in for 11-44 off Snowcastle way. I’ll lay down some flares. Send backup for possible suspects – building has not been fully cleared. Also, 10-57, mammal has been recovered, send a bus.”

There was a pause before the radio replied. Nick looked up at Judy as she kept her focus on the doors and the possibility of danger.

“Copy, Wilde. Help’s on the way. Did you say Sarchus?”

“Yeah. Advise the others.”

“Copy.”

“Alright, called in.” Nick pushed his radio back onto his belt and stepped back from the door as Andrea brought Canidae in.

“Close your eyes.” Andrea whispered, and Canidae did.

“Nick and I will follow you to the exit, but we’re going to stay and wait for backup. It might take some time to clear this place. We can’t take any chances with the victim. An ambulance is taking her to Saint Antelise. You’re either going with her or you’re coming with us.”

“Yes, Officer.” Andrea’s reply betrayed her respect for Judy, but she didn’t mind. “Did you hear all that?” She asked down to Canidae, who had tucked her head down and against Andrea’s chest.

“I’m fine, I don’t need a-“

“Good, I’ll insist that the hospital staff make the visit as brief as possible. Come on, let’s get you somewhere warmer.”

“Is that a fire I hear? Why not here?”

“Miss Canidae, please… close your eyes. We can’t stay here.”


End file.
